Sea kayaking equipment

Balance, Momentum, and Leverage: How to Get a 25’ Kayak Off A Truck By Yourself

The Tsunami X-3 Trident. Not a small boat.

Naturally I was devastated when my late husband died, but one of the things that really had me exercised was how the heck I was going to get kayaks on and off the truck by myself. It might sound silly to some, but I’m short, the rack is high, and the Kevlar boats are long and heavy.

Thanks to my friend Rebekah Kakuk, I learned how to get the X-15 up and down solo, so that was great. But what about the X-3 Trident? A boat that’s 25’ long and weighs 100 pounds? This summer I got a chance to see if I could manage it by myself and by golly I pulled it off. So for all of you out there who may find yourself in a similar predicament, here’s how to get a Tsunami X-3 Trident off a Rack-It rack on a Toyota Tacoma all by yourself, even if you’re 5’ 3”.

July 4th, Jim and I loaded the Trident onto the rack no problem. Jim wanted to try the boat out with his partner Patti because they were considering taking it to Baja. But at Russian Gulch they decided it was too tippy so I ended up taking it back home. Since Jim and Patti had returned to Guerneville, I was stuck unloading it myself. Actually, there are people I could have called to help, but I was walking with a friend the morning of my return and when I asked her if she could help she said, “Can’t you do it yourself?” She seemed to think I was totally capable. Of course, she hadn’t seen the Trident.

Jim and Patti at Abalone Pt. with the Trident and the X-15

But her words stuck with me. Could I do it myself? I’ve done practically every other thing I’ve found myself having to do alone since Eric died. Maybe I should give it a shot. So the next morning when it was still nice and early and cool I walked up to the truck where it was parked by the boat rack and took stock of the situation.

I thought about whether I’d be able to lower the bow onto the tail gate once I got the stern down. It seemed doable. I decided to do it. I untied the ropes and then took a break to Really Think about what was going to happen. I visualized the process of sliding the boat off the rack and analyzed where the stern would end up. Then I opened the back of the truck and stood on the tail gate. The first thing was to flip the boat over, because it was resting on its rails and it slides a lot easier on the hull. First check. I couldn’t flip the damn thing to save my life because I was positioned toward the stern of the boat and it was too heavy. So I climbed up onto the rack, made my way to the center of the boat’s frame, and it was an easy flip from there.

Got 'er flipped. What's next? — Got ‘er flipped. Now what?

I climbed down and thought about it some more. Then I got back up on the tail gate and holding onto a rail with both hands started to slide the Trident toward the back of the truck. Little by little I carefully worked the boat back. It started to tip but I controlled it so the stern slowly but surely lowered softly to the ground. Once the stern was established on the ground, I took a break and assessed the situation again. The Trident looked pretty impressive tilted up against the rack, its bow high in the air. Now came the tricky part.

Approaching the stern, I grabbed the back rails and again Very Slowly started sliding the Trident off the rack. Finally there was only a little bit of the bow still resting on the rack. I set the stern down and thought about the next step. I climbed up onto the tail gate and tried to lift the nose off the rack, but I couldn’t do it. The stern was stuck on the ground making it so I couldn’t lift the bow and I couldn’t slide the boat back without damaging the rudder. I wasn’t sure it would move anyway. So I got down, picked up the stern again, and slid the Trident back some more until just the littlest bit of the bow was still perched on the rack.

Cautiously so as not to rock the truck and drop the boat I climbed up on the tail gate and found that I could now lift the bow off the rack. There I was standing on the tail gate holding the bow of the Trident in my arms unable to move. I couldn’t get it down onto the tail gate because the stern wouldn’t move and the boat was a little too long to lower down without cracking the glass in the back window of the camper shell. If I tried to muscle it I was afraid to damage the rudder or lose control of the boat. Then I realized that I could probably lift the bow over the back of the rack to the side and then lower it down that way. I slid the boat as far over to one side as I could and took the hull in my arms. I gently lifted the boat up and over the rack. There I stood on the edge of the side of the tail gate, cradling the bow in my arms. I realized I couldn’t just drop it on the ground. Now what?

The boat actually felt light since I was only holding the very end. With my arms glued to my sides, elbows bent at 90 degrees like a forklift to protect my shoulders, I slowly bent my knees and squatted down with the boat in my arms. I got as low as I could and eased my butt down on to the edge of the tail gate till I could slide my legs over and sit. Now I could hop down and lower the bow to the ground. Mission accomplished!

I washed the boat off and two friends who live down the street came over and helped me get the Trident into its berth. Easy peasy. While moving the boat at no point did I feel out of control or in danger of blowing out a shoulder, losing a limb, or breaking the boat. The entire process, including all those pauses to stop and think, only took about 15 minutes. So even though the Trident is almost five times taller than me and weighs nearly as much as I do, I wrangled that bad boy no problem. Whoever said, “Where there’s a will there’s a way” never said a truer word. I probably could have racked the boat by myself too but why push it?

I hope this information is useful, and I’d love to hear your stories about maneuvering boats in difficult situations. If any of our readers have a good tale to share let’s hear it! Vive la independence!

Tsunami Rangers Go Inflatable

by Tsunami Ranger Commander Michael Powers

Editor’s note: Thanks to photographers Rob Cala and Dave Norket, as well as our own Michael Powers, for the photos!

: TRs Steve “El Rey” King and Tim Sullivan breaking the wave barrier

On a day with moderate winter surf conditions, three of the senior Rangers – Steven King, Tim Sullivan and Michael Powers – and long-time friends of the Rangers Rob Cala and Davey Norket, converged at Moss Beach in northern California to test out a new inflatable Advanced Elements double kayak. The boat was one of AE’s “advanced frame expedition” boats that come with a unique zip-in deck with inflatable cowlings and spray skirts. Michael was considering using the inflatables for his upcoming multi-day paddling expeditions along the Pacific coast of Costa Rica, and along the remote southern coast of Cuba.

: Landing in rocks and surf: check!

Rangers King and Sullivan launched the boat from a little beach surrounded by the rugged and rocky coastline of Moss Beach, a favorite haunt of the Rangers for past paddling escapades. A short distance north of here was where Powers photographed Eric Soares, Jim Kakuk and Misha Dynnikov punching through surf and rocks for the cover of their book EXTREME SEA KAYAKING. Just to the south was infamous “Sniveler’s Slit”, where Kakuk crashed face-first into the rocks while attempting to surf into the Slit during the making of the Rangers’ first serious film effort, THE ADVENTURES OF THE TSUNAMI RANGERS – viewable now on VIMEO at: https://vimeo.com/39383078 .

During this latest Tsunami adventure the Advanced Elements inflatable kayak performed surprisingly well, even though AE designer/owner Clay Haller probably never envisioned his boats being subjected the punishing conditions of surf zone paddling for which the Rangers are well known. Even with repeated punching through breaking waves, capsizes, and surf landings over rocks, the AE boat and the Rangers survived without a scratch – which was much better than many hard-shell boats have fared at the hands of the Rangers.

Bring us you hard shell, your inflatable, your whatever and we’ll try it out! We’ll surf it, crash it, and maybe you’ll get it back intact. Or maybe not…

Questions? Comments? Click below and share!

Cold Water Safety – Golden Rule No. 5: Imagine the Worst That Can Happen and Plan for It

by Moulton Avery

Editor’s note: Moulton Avery is founder and director of the National Center for Cold Water Safety. He started out paddling canoes in the early 70’s and transitioned to sea kayaking in 1984. His pioneering article Cold Shock appeared in the Spring 1991 issue of Sea Kayaker.

“Risk assessment is a key safety element of every sea kayaking endeavor.”
– Eric Soares

In the long list of things that can go wrong, one of the worst calamities that can befall a paddler, particularly a cold water paddler, is to lose his or her boat. This can happen because it blows away, it sinks, or the paddler is unable to reenter it.

More than twenty years ago, on a cold, windy day in February, I found myself – much to my surprise and dismay – swimming my guts out in near-freezing water and large, confused seas in the tide race at Cape Henlopen, Delaware. My beloved sea kayak was nowhere in sight, and unless things got better really fast, I was shortly going to wind up out in the Atlantic Ocean on Hen and Chickens Shoal, which I figured to be an even worse place for a swim on that particular day. It was, as the saying goes, a real “learning experience”. But I’m getting ahead of myself here, so let’s backtrack a bit…

Roughly nine out of ten sea kayaking fatalities result from capsizing in cold water without the protection of a wetsuit or drysuit. At the National Center for Cold Water Safety, we promote Five Golden Rules that enable any paddler to build a strong cold water safety net. This post examines Rule No. 5: Imagine the Worst That Can Happen and Plan for It.

When something bad happens out on the water and you’re unprepared to deal with it, you’re in trouble – sometimes big trouble. That’s why it’s a really good idea to make a practice of thinking about everything that could possibly go wrong, and making sure you have those bases covered before you go out.

Knowledge and Experience

The safety hurdle faced by many paddlers is that they don’t have enough knowledge or experience to imagine the all the things that can, and often do, go wrong – even on modest outings. This places them at a huge disadvantage when trying to plan for the unexpected. So what can these folks do to improve their odds? For starters, they can learn from the bad experiences suffered by other paddlers, and thereby avoid making the same mistakes – or at least be better prepared for them.

The Value of Second-Hand Knowledge

A lot of people believe there’s no way you can learn to kayak, rock climb, backpack, scuba dive, fly a plane, ride a horse, a bicycle, motorcycle or whatever just by reading about it – that the only way to really learn about that kind of stuff is by actually doing it. That’s true enough, but only up to a point – and it’s a very important point, because as it turns out, there’s a LOT of stuff that you really don’t want to learn about the hard way – by direct personal experience. Some sea kayaking examples:

Getting totally creamed when you decide to paddle out that little inlet or river mouth “just to check things out”.
Getting swept into a tide race or blown offshore into much rougher water even though the TV weather report you watched in the morning said nothing about dangerous tidal currents or small craft advisories.
Watching in horror as your kayak does a “Cleopatra’s Needle” or sinks like a stone because it has no floatation. Ditto watching your kayak blow away. (More on that later.)
Capsizing 200 yards from shore in 50F water and finding out that the guy who tried to warn you about the danger of cold water really did know what he was talking about.
Getting really and truly lost when fog rolls in and your trusty GPS runs out of juice, breaks, malfunctions, can’t get a signal – whatever – and now it’s getting dark and cold and you don’t have a map and compass and even if you did, you wouldn’t know how to use them.
Floating around in the dark, shivering and watching the lights of boats and helicopters searching for you but having no way to signal them because you have neither flares, a waterproof flashlight, cell phone, VHF radio, or emergency strobe light.
Breaking or dislocating a finger, or cutting it to the bone.
Getting to the take-out and realizing that Mary is missing – she capsized 2 miles back but nobody knew it because your group didn’t have a designated sweep.
Being unable to function because your hands are completely numb – even though your drysuit is keeping the rest of your body toasty warm.

The mistake that led to my 45+ minute February swim in near-freezing water at the mouth of Delaware Bay was basically a failure of imagination. I totally failed to anticipate having the kayak knocked out of my very firm grasp and blown away while I was doing a reenter and roll that I’d nailed hundreds of times before.

During that long, drysuit-assisted swim, I developed a visceral appreciation for the value of a boat tether and belatedly installed one shortly thereafter – as did a lot of our fellow paddlers when they heard about the incident. Ever since then, I’ve been a proponent of using boat and paddle tethers.

“Tethered to my trusty old 1984 Nordkapp HM with a short, stout line of marine-grade elastic shock cord.” — Tethered to my trusty old 1984 Nordkapp HM with a short, stout line of marine-grade elastic shock cord.

Many sea kayakers today use paddle leashes, and most carry spare paddles, but it’s worth pointing out that nobody carries a spare boat. Most board surfers consider tethers to be standard equipment, and it appears that most surfski paddlers do as well. For some inexplicable reason, however, sea kayakers rarely use them, although losing a sea kayak can be every bit as hazardous as losing a ski. Many cite a fear of entanglement – an understandable concern, but one that should really be a non-issue. For the record, you can’t get entangled in a yard-long tether.

My tether has a working length of 25 inches (<1 meter), and as the picture shows, it clips into a stainless steel ring that runs on a line across my foredeck. It doesn’t impede a wet exit from my smaller ocean cockpit or interfere in any way with a smooth reenter and roll.

I unclip if I’m reentering my boat via an assisted rescue, and also unclip when launching or landing in surf, but otherwise I remain tethered – particularly in rough conditions, tide races, or when surfing offshore bars.

After getting back into sea kayaking in 2010, I was surprised to find that commercial tethers were quite long, and appeared flimsy compared to what I use. The forces trying to separate paddler from boat can be huge at times, and under the wrong circumstances, a broken tether can have a fatal outcome.

On our National Center for Cold Water Safety website, each Golden Rule is followed by a description and analysis of one or more often fatal accidents. The case that follows Rule No. 5 involves a very experienced paddler who died when the tether to his surf ski broke in very windy, rough-water conditions. You can read it at http://www.coldwatersafety.org/Rule5.html

Food for Thought – What will you do if…

Incapacitated by cold.
Blown out to sea by high wind.
Paddle breaks, drifts away, or is lost in rough water.
Tether breaks and boat blows away.
Waves dump water into cockpit and boat fills with water.
Capsize and can’t get back in boat.
Cell phone and/or VHF radio lost when boat blows away.
Hit a rock and smash hole in boat.
Dislocate shoulder.
Caught in thunderstorm.
Night falls – can’t see anything.
Paddle float blows away.
Become seasick or exhausted and can no longer paddle.
Lose the cover to the rear hatch.
Lose prescription glasses– can’t see.

If at all possible critical elements should have a backup – even if the backup is to make a repair. Is all of this overkill? Maybe, but you don’t often hear about “overly prepared” sea kayakers getting into trouble.

Checklists Are Your Friend

It’s easy to forget stuff – at home, in your car, and at the take-out. Consider having a checklist for each situation.

Leaving Home – a list of all the things you want to have with you at the put-in.
Launching – a list of all the things you want with you on the paddle.
Returning Home – a list of stuff that you don’t want to forget at the take-out.

I’ve never regretted being too vigilant, or safety conscious, or infatuated with checklists and meticulous planning, or cautious about my choice of paddling partners, but almost every single time I’ve made the mistake of being sloppy, lazy, or complacent about those things, it’s come back, in one way or another, to bite me on the rump.

Full Disclosure: I’ve forgotten all sorts of stuff, on various occasions, because I got sloppy with my checklists. Among other things, I’ve left my VHF radio, tow rope, and swim trunks at home, forgotten to pack lunch, left my compass or headlamp in the car, and forgotten to bring my wallet, a towel, a comb, and sunscreen. I also lost a very nice paddle because I left it on a boat ramp at the take-out and on one truly memorable occasion, was fortunate that someone miraculously had a spare PFD…

Resources

Educate Yourself
One of the best ways to expand your horizon of knowledge is by reading about bad stuff that happened to other people and reading safety articles written by paddlers with a lot of real-world experience.

National Center for Cold Water Safety at www.coldwatersafety.o rg – Five Golden Rules and 19 case studies with lessons learned that drive the points home.

Deep Survival by Lawrence Gonzales is an excellent book that answers the question often asked after accidents: “What the hell were they thinking?”

www.tsunamirangers.com – The Tsunami Rangers website itself contains a wealth of information related to safety and preparation, including the following posts:

For additional articles on this website, click the Sea Kayaking Dangers category.

Sea Kayaker magazine is an excellent resource. Most issues have safety articles, and the magazine has also made 15+ years of back issues available online to the paddling community. See their website’s Articles and Resources tabs. The PDF section links to an excellent article by Doug Lloyd that appeared in the February 2000 issue: Staying Connected – The Case for Tethers.

Deep Trouble by Matt Broze and George Gronseth contains 22 stories and lessons learned that appeared in Sea Kayaker magazine. The stories are riveting, but the book’s cold water safety information is pretty thin.

Share Your Thoughts! Please share your comments about this post or any experiences you’ve had in which better preparation or equipment would have made a difference. What articles, resources or gear have you found particularly helpful? What’s your take on the issue of boat tethers?

Cold Water Safety – Golden Rule #4: Swim-Test Your Gear Every Time You Go Out

by Moulton Avery

On January 15th, 2011, a very experienced and skilled whitewater paddler by the name of Ian Walsh drowned while paddling the Ogwen River in Wales, UK. The UK Rivers Guidebook describes the Ogwen as a “true classic Grade 4 trip”, one best undertaken at high water after a heavy rain.

Ogwen Bank Falls - photo by Tim Campbell — Ogwen Bank Falls – photo by Tim Campbell

Ogwen Bank Falls - photo by Robin Jones — Ogwen Bank Falls – photo by Robin Jones

Walsh was paddling with his long-time kayaking friend Phil Davidson and both men were familiar with the river and looking forward to making the 5 mile run. For protection, they were equipped with helmets, drysuits and PFDs.

Davidson reported capsizing and rolling up several times during the descent. Walsh doubtless would have done the same – except for a small but ultimately critical oversight: the zipper on his drysuit wasn’t properly closed. That’s precisely the kind of problem that swim-testing is designed to reveal.

What is Swim-Testing?

Swim-testing is like a pilot’s preflight inspection – a last minute safety-check to make sure that your thermal protection is working properly and that you’re wearing enough to keep you warm. Swim-testing is also is a great way to develop an expert “feel” for exactly how much gear you need to wear at different water temperatures.

How to Swim-Test:

Put on your thermal protection, get in the water, and splash around.
Sit, float, tread water, or swim – whatever works best for you.
Try holding your nose to see how it feels to get your head dunked.
How long you stay in the water is up to you – it’s your gear that you’re testing.

Valuable Things That You Can Discover via Swim-Testing

The mistakes listed below really do happen. Sometimes they’re amusing, sometimes they’re merely unpleasant, but every once in a while, as in the case above, they can be fatal.

Your drysuit has a torn gasket.
You forgot to close the “relief zipper” on your drysuit.
You forgot to properly close the main zipper on your drysuit.
You should have paid more attention to the instructions on how to seal your two-piece drysuit.
All by itself, your drysuit provides about as much insulation as a shower curtain, and you need to find some nice warm stuff to wear underneath it.
The gear you’re wearing on this particular outing is totally inadequate to keep you warm in the water.
You didn’t burp your drysuit enough, so you feel like a blimp in the water.

Rita Scherping demonstrating El Blimpo in very cold water

You burped your drysuit way too much and squashed all that fluffy pile insulation down to the thickness of a penny and now it doesn’t feel warm any more.

Overburped: Rita demonstrates the Freezing Otter - Yikes, now, it's cold!!! — Overburped: Rita demonstrates the Freezing Otter – Yikes, now, it’s cold!!!

More Valuable Things You Can Learn

You were sadly mistaken when you thought that a “paddling jacket” was the same thing as a “drytop”.
Your neoprene gloves or the wrist seals on your drysuit are a wee bit too snug. They reduce the flow of warm blood to your hands – which are quickly becoming very cold.
You need to get a neo hood, a neo hat – or both – to protect your head and neck from that chilly water.
The 3mil Farmer John & drytop combo that was just fine and dandy at 65F, is not nearly enough to keep you warm at 48F.
The wetsuit you got on sale is too large. You’re trying to compensate by wearing a thick polypro top and bottom underneath it, but whenever you move, very cold water flushes in and out, causing you to squeal like a little piggy.

What if I don’t want to swim-test?

Perhaps you should consider reading the above section a second time…

Swim-testing is fast and easy, and it’s no big deal when you’re dressed for the water temperature. If you’re unwilling to swim-test, it’s usually because you’re worried that your gear won’t keep you warm and/or dry when you’re in the water.

Why some paddlers blow off swim-tests:

They never heard of swim-testing.
They spaced out and simply forgot to do it.
They don’t happen to have any cold water gear with them at the moment.
Their gear is brand new and they’re too nervous to try it out.
Their nasty, old, worn-out gear is shot-to-hell, and they have a strong gut-feeling that it won’t keep them warm – even during the swim-test.
Their gear is just perfect for the air temperature, but way too skimpy for the water temperature.
It’s cold and windy at the launch site, and they don’t want to get in the water because they’re worried about getting cold and wet.
The water is so skanky with scum, oil slicks and dead fish that it’s a major commitment to just put their pretty little boat in the water.

On very rare occasions, such as when faced with ultra-skanky water or a perhaps a seal launch, you may find it difficult or impossible to swim-test. That’s understandable. If you’re already very familiar with your gear because you’ve thoroughly field-tested it, just double-check the zippers, seals etc. as best you can. If you can roll, do so as soon as you’re on the water, and next time, try to pick a better launch site.

The real issue for most paddlers is not whether they swim-test every single time they paddle. It’s that they never swim-test their gear and consequently have no idea whether it’s working properly and will protect them if they wind up in the water.

For more information, please visit www.coldwatersafety.org.

Please share your thoughts by clicking the comment button below.

Who’s Your Sea Kayaking Mentor?

men’tor, n. (from Mentor, the friend and counselor of Odysseus
and Telmachus) a wise and faithful counselor
(Webster’s New Twentieth Century Dictionary)

Everyone needs a mentor, especially when undertaking a new and challenging endeavor. The Tsunami Rangers have mentored many sea kayakers. Tsunami Ranger Eric Soares introduced me to extreme sea kayaking in 1996. The first thing he did was make me paddle a Tsunami X-0, a small washdeck kayak without a rudder. This boat simply turns around in circles if you don’t paddle correctly. First I learned how to make it go straight. Then I learned how to surf and how to paddle in rock gardens and sea caves.

Eric’s rationale for making me paddle that boat was that I would quickly learn all the paddle strokes a sea kayaker needs to know by doing, without having to take a class. Either that or I would turn around in circles for the rest of my life. I went out when he went out, found a safe place and messed around in that little X-0 until I knew what to do. I received very little instruction and pretty much taught myself. It was an unconventional way to learn, but it was fun and it worked.

Me and my son Nick, age 9, with my first boat Stella Blue in 1996

After about six years paddling the X-0, I went with the Tsunami Rangers on retreat to the Channel Islands. I was allowed to borrow Michael Powers’ beautiful yellow and blue Tsunami X-15 for this greater endeavor. The X-15 is the go-to boat for the Rangers. I fell in love. Oh my God, a rudder! I had no idea! I came back determined to get an X-15. Jim Kakuk, Tsunami boat builder extraordinaire, fabricated one for me, a beautiful sparkly blue boat with a silver trident on the front deck. I was thrilled. With the X-15 I could do everything I needed to do to paddle with Eric. Because I had spent so much time paddling the X-0, the X-15 with its greater power and the rudder factor was pretty easy for me to handle. Now I could take on bigger challenges.

Heading into a cave at Russian Gulch in my X-15

In 2004, my friend Denise Vidosh and I decided to paddle the 2005 Tsunami Ranger Extreme Sea Kayak Race. It was time to graduate again, this time to the Tsunami X-3 Trident. Denise and I dubbed this boat “The Big Pig”. It’s 24 feet long and weighs 150 pounds. At first we could barely lift it. Eric couldn’t help us because he was recovering from his first bout of open heart surgeries and his upper body was still weak. He told us we would have to buck up and get stronger so we could schlepp the big boat around. He agreed to be our trainer, though, and as he mentored us he used the opportunity to coach himself back into good sea kayaking shape. He wanted to paddle in the next race too.

Beginning August 2004 Eric, Denise and I went out nearly once a week regardless of conditions. The first thing Eric told us was not to wear our seat belts. For us, rolling that big boat in tandem was not an option. Eric showed us how to synchronize tipping the boat over, falling out, flipping it upright, jumping back in, and paddling like hell. We got faster and faster at this maneuver. We practiced in the harbor at Pillar Point, and once we had it down Eric took us out to sea. We would launch from the harbor and paddle out the harbor mouth along the jetty to Sail Rock where the Maverick’s Big Wave surf contest is held. We did this in all weather. We would paddle along the jetty hugging the rocks, keeping as close as we could. This allowed us to keep out of the wind and experience the waves and surge along the jetty.

The lagoon and rock gardens at Pillar Point

Once out at the reef, we’d look at conditions. Then we’d make our plan. We practiced falling out and getting back in over and over in all situations. Some days we spent more time in the water than out of it. We practiced landings and take-offs on the beach. If possible, we’d surf. Sometimes we’d paddle around the point through Maverick’s and surf or land at Ross’s Cove. We also practiced paddling through the slot at the point. These features are all part of the race course, so practicing here was warranted.

Me, Denise, and "The Big Pig" finish the race at Miramar — Me, Denise, and “The Big Pig” finish the race at Miramar

Eric was really good at coaching. He’d tell us what to do, watch, give simple, concise feedback, and send us out again. He was calm and supportive. We improved greatly over the eight months he worked with us. When race day came, Denise and I did well. We weren’t trying to go fast; we just wanted to paddle the course without screwing up. It was actually one of our easiest days, and we managed to get through all four surf zones without crashing. We came in 23rd out of 32 boats and were pretty darned proud of ourselves. Eric raced successfully too.

Denise, Eric, and I after the race, Miramar 2005

Because of Eric’s mentoring I learned how to kayak in sea caves, rock gardens, and surf. Because of Eric I was able to successfully paddle the 20^th annual (and last) Tsunami Sea Gypsy race. Because of him I have had many amazing, magical sea kayaking experiences. He opened a whole world of people and places to me that has enriched my life immeasureably. I will always be grateful to my wonderful sea kayaking mentor, Eric Soares.

Who’s your sea kayaking mentor? Give that person props by clicking below!