Sea Kayaking philosophy

Sea Kayaking Na Pali Redux – Rolling With the Tao

“A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving.”
-Lao Tzu, “Tao Te Ching”

My experience on the Na Pali expedition was an exercise in how to roll when things don’t go as planned.

I had misgivings as soon as I arrived on Kauai and discovered 26 people signed up for the trip. Mark and Sasha did a great job as organizers but I had anticipated 16 paddlers tops which still seemed like way too many because I’m used to small maneuverable Tsunami-style groups. For me, things already weren’t going as planned.

We camped at Ha’ena Beach. All night wind and rain pounded our tents and the surf pounded the shore. Next day conditions were great for surfing and kite boarding but not so good for a trip down Na Pali in fully laden scuppers with 26 paddlers of vastly different levels of experience. Big swells, unusually rough conditions for June that only happen every five years or so, were predicted for several days. We’d have to wait to launch. Things continued not to go as planned.

Camping at the lo'i — Camping at the lo’i

After Ha’ena we needed a different place to stay for another three nights. The weather pinned us down that long. Fortunately, Mark had a friend on the island. Presley Wann manages a State-owned lo’i, the site of an ancient Hawaiian community. The locals have formed a committee (www.facebook.com/HMoMakana) to restore the lo’i to its traditional purpose – taro farming. They’re slowly clearing the land all the way to the sea and rebuilding the ancient walls exactly as they were originally laid out. We moved our gear to the new campsite and settled in to wait. This was not what any of us had planned.

Ancient walls waiting to be restored to their original function

We kept busy. I found myself looking at the taro patches. The taro enchanted me. The crickets sang, the wind sighed through the palms, and the taro leaves danced. The lo’i was like a little Eden. The cliff below which the lo’i lay was called “Makana” which means “gift” in Hawaiian. Here the ‘aina, “the land that feeds”, gave me a gift.

To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.
-William Blake, “Auguries of Innocence”

One evening, I was watching the taro turn gold in the sunlight. A heart-shaped leaf dipped in the wind. Its pointed tip just touched the surface of the surrounding water, creating concentric wavelets that multiplied and spread, shining in the light. It was one of those crystal moments when the universe slides into place and you feel like you could never be disappointed or unhappy again. Time stopped and a sense of great clarity descended. Suddenly everything I thought I needed to do was irrelevant and I lost all desire to paddle this trip.

It may look mundane, but this taro is magical!

In years past I’ve hiked the Kalalau trail three times, kayaked down the entire Na Pali coast and once I even swam down to the first pocket beach with Eric and his brother John when Eric and I were on our honeymoon. When I saw the faded green Kayak Kauai building again I found myself choking up. Thinking about how Micco, the owner, had guided Eric and me down Na Pali was emotional. Taking this trip with a lot of strangers (of 26 people I only knew five) was not what I needed just then.

Taro farming at Limahuli Botanical Garden

The Hawaiians believe that taro is sentient. I do too because it told me very clearly to Go Home. At that crystal moment the trip was over for me. I’ve been running around ever since Eric died but suddenly the restless agitation vanished. I knew that just like the taro I have a place where I can grow and dance and put down roots and benefit my community. That place is home.

Maya before she caught "the bug" — Maya before she caught “the bug”

Meanwhile, Tsunami Ranger daughter Maya King got sick. She couldn’t paddle so Melinda her mom planned to stay behind with her. Although I was sorry for Maya, this was an opening for me. I asked Melinda if it was okay for me to hang with them. She said yes, so I told Mark and Sasha I was going to stay behind too. Not what any of us had planned but it was all good.

There are so many gifts
Still unopened from your birthday.
There are so many hand-crafted presents
That have been sent to you by God.
-Hafiz

Our companions eventually launched and made their way down the coast while Melinda, Maya, and I dragged our smelly wet selves and our gear to a hotel and began to repair the damage of five days and four nights of rain, wind, salt water and mosquitos. At Presley’s advice, the next day I drove up to Kalalau lookout.

Looking down at Kalalau Valley from 5,148' — Looking down at Kalalau Valley from 5,148′

Rolling along in a rented SUV, listening to reggae on Island Radio and eating musubi, for the first time on the trip I felt solid. When I got to the top of the mountain I looked down on Kalalau Valley where our group was camping. I had no regrets. Then I plunged into the the Alakai swamp, one of the wettest spots on earth, for a big hike.

That night Presley invited us to his house for a barbecue. Some cousins were in town from Oahu and the family was getting together. Colleen, Presley’s wife, made a delicious chicken curry. We had great conversations and met a grandson, two daughters, a fiancée plus cousins and uncles. Aloha prevailed. Not what we had planned but it was wonderful.

Presley gives us the lowdown on the lo'i — Presley gives us the lowdown on the lo’i

It’s hard to believe I ended up kayaking only one day on this trip. That was certainly not the plan but I still think the trip turned out great. I had the privilege of staying at the lo’i and spending time with people intimately connected to the land. I hung with Melinda and Maya, something I don’t often get to do. I hiked in the swamp, and did some productive thinking there. I went to Presley’s house for dinner and enjoyed Hawaiian ohana. And I had an epiphany triggered by taro. What’s not to like? I am reminded of something sea kayaker Justine Curgenven wrote about her aborted attempt to paddle around Isla Grande, Tierra Del Fuego: “Being stranded on land so much meant that we met and spent time with many wonderful people and were shown great kindness.” (Sea Kayaker Magazine, Dec. 2011.) There’s something to be said for Plan B.

Tom and Annie Hashimoto, caretakers of the lo'i — Tom and Annie Hashimoto, caretakers of the lo’i

I could have been disappointed when things didn’t turn out the way I planned. Instead, I let the little nudges from the universe guide me so while everyone else paddled Na Pali I had my own unique experience and it was amazing. So next time you get pinned down by weather or something frustrates your efforts to do what you think you ought to be doing don’t fret. Maybe your path is already laid at your feet. Maybe another adventure is right there waiting. Look for the signs. Roll with the Tao. There are so many gifts still unopened from your birthday…

Many thanks to Mark and Sasha and Melinda and Maya for understanding and rolling with me.

How do you cope with the unexpected and unplanned? Please share your thoughts by clicking below.

Rhode Island – The Ocean State: Personal Reflections of a Sea Kayaker

by Tony Moore

Editor’s note: Tony Moore lives in Jamestown, R.I. with his wife Aline. He has been diving and spearfishing for almost 50 years and has been kayaking since 1997. Tony is also a certified Water Safety Instructor (American Red Cross). He coordinates several RICKA (Rhode Island Canoe & Kayaking Association) paddles every year, usually rock garden trips. He is a frequent contributor to the conversations on this website, and we have learned to love his thoughtful, well-written comments.

The Romance Begins

My love affair with Rhode Island began forty years ago, in 1973. I was in the Navy, and Newport was my new duty station. Although I had grown up in nearby Boston, I knew little about my neighbor to the south. Being a water person, I quickly fell in love with the Ocean State. Diving, spearfishing, playing in the surf, it was all here! Because of its many islands and large bay (Narragansett), there are 400 miles of coast, from calm coves and bays to exposed open coast, to islands of all sizes. And rocks!!! Much of the exposed coast consists of cliffs, rocks, and rock gardens. I soon found many places where the spearfishing was fantastic. Later, when I discovered kayaking, these same locations would provide many hours of rock-gardening fun. Here are a few of my water experiences and observations in the Ocean State over the years.

West Island, Sakonnet Point

West Island is one of several small islands and rocks off of Sakonnet Point in Little Compton, R.I. Hundreds of seagulls and cormorants can be seen there. Sakonnet Point is one of RICKA’s (Rhode Island Canoe and Kayak Association) most popular rock garden venues, and West Island, with its surrounding rock gardens and a protected pool, is always one of our favorite stops.

In 2001, I took Hannah, my youngest daughter, out to see the birds on West Island. We went there well after the newborn birds had hatched, and our goal was to observe the young ones as long as it didn’t cause a disturbance. We soon discovered that the birds were oblivious to us, for a much more intense drama was taking place. The cormorants were all in close huddles. Soon we noticed that the young ones were in the middle of the huddles, and not long after, we discovered why. They were constantly being challenged and harassed by seagulls! The adult cormorants had to maintain a constant vigil, or lose their young to the ravenous gulls…we even saw a seagull attacking a young gull, whose mother was valiantly protecting it. Lesson learned: life in the wild is difficult, and survival is the prime directive.

Seal Rock

Seal Rock lies a third of a mile south of Newport’s Ocean Drive, a wild, exposed area great for spearfishing and rock gardening. On June 23d, 1989, I had snorkeled out to Seal Rock to do some spearfishing. I caught some tautog, headed back to the shore, and was soon driving back home. Listening to the radio, I heard some terrible news: the World Prodigy, a tanker of Greek registry, had just run aground off Brenton Reef…a couple of hundred yards west of Seal Rock…if I had stayed out there longer, I would have witnessed the tragedy. Hundreds of thousands of gallons of diesel fuel contaminated the water, and the effects on wildlife lasted for years. It turns out the captain of the vessel hadn’t gotten any sleep for a day and a half, and was distracted with paperwork. The vessel passed on the wrong side of a navigational buoy. The only “good” thing about the incident is that it was diesel (which evaporates to some extent) and not crude oil. Lesson: we, as water-people, must strive to do all we can, and take the lead to protect our beautiful marine environment, both as individuals, and through groups such as Surf Riders Foundation, and Save the Bay (a R.I. organization devoted to the health of Narragansett Bay).

Early last fall, RICKA did a rock garden paddle that took us out to Seal Rock. While there, I filmed a rare video of purple sandpipers, while negotiating a narrow passageway through Seal Rock. The birds at first flew away from me, as a flock, to the far side of the passageway. Then, still as a group, they flew straight for me, parting to the left and right just before they would have hit my head. Having a helmet cam, I got a wonderful video of the whole event, and put a partially-slow motion version on YouTube ( www.youtube.com/watch?v=ctxaq4N6Cg8 ).

Whale Rock

In 1882, a lighthouse was built almost a half mile east of the Narragansett coast to warn vessels of dangerous rocks located at the southern end of Narragansett Bay’s west passage. That lighthouse, manned by a rotating crew, served its purpose well for many years. Then, on the 21st of September, 1938, bad weather was approaching. Walter B. Eberle wasn’t yet due to begin his watch at the lighthouse, but seeing the weather worsen, he decided to relieve his co-worker early rather than risk a changing of the guard under hazardous conditions. That decision cost him his life, as later the full force of the hurricane of ’38 pounded Whale Rock Light. The powerful storm surge swept the cast iron lighthouse off its stone base. Walter Eberle, age 40, was never found. One of his daughters commented, “He always said he would die in the ocean”. Whale Rock is a frequent stop for R.I. kayakers when crossing from Narragansett to Beavertail Point in Jamestown. As we play in the rocks and passageways of Whale Rock, we remember its tragic history, and the man who heroically stood the last watch there.

The stone foundation is all that remains of the former lighthouse.

Prudence Island

My wife Aline and I last year paddled from Jamestown to Prudence Island in our Tsunami X2. After crossing the shipping channel, we approached Prudence, and proceeded northward close to its eastern shore. A few miles later, we arrived at the ferry landing (Prudence has no bridge, you can only get there by boat). We landed, and proceeded to the small general store. Marcy Dunbar, the store’s owner/manager, greeted us. With her white hair in braided pigtails, Marcy Dunbar, 88 years young, is one of a kind. A lifelong resident of Prudence Island, Marcy is Prudence Island…she knows all of the almost 100 year-round residents living on the 5.6 sq. mile island. She not only runs the general store, but also the post office, and a small library, all in one building. From 1969 to 1972, she was the lamplighter for the Sandy Point lighthouse on the island. At the store, she still tallies up the price of purchases with pencil on a brown paper bag, and she is probably sharper than most teenagers…once, I arrived at 9:50am (a sign on the door said open at 10:00am). The door was locked, but I soon saw her approaching. That key went into that lock at EXACTLY 10:00am! Observation: An important part of the island-hopping kayaking experience is the people you get to meet, not only fellow kayakers, but fishermen, environmental officers, sailors, or just unique “island people”. Some of them, like Marcy, are special, irreplaceable treasures!

Dutch Island

Dutch Island is about 8-tenths of a mile long, shaped roughly like an upside-down teardrop. A lighthouse occupies the southern tip, and a dense growth of trees and bushes dominate the island, punctuated by old, abandoned military buildings and gun emplacements from the Civil War and beyond. Trails course through the island, especially at the perimeter near the water. I’ve camped there several times, often with some of my kids and their friends. We would always have a night-time excursion, with headlights, flashlights, and walkie-talkies, traveling to the southern tip of the island, and climbing the lighthouse, which at that time was in ill repair and abandoned…very spooky! At the top of the stairs, you had to lift a steel trap door, then, voila! you were at the top, with a great 360-degree view of the lower west passage of Narragansett Bay. Once, while on this nocturnal excursion, we were treated to a wonderful light show: thousands of fireflies were doing their thing! And away from any significant light pollution, Dutch Island is great for just watching the stars on a clear summer night…I bring binoculars to enhance the experience. The lighthouse has been restored and the light reactivated, so now it is locked and you can no longer climb to the top. But Dutch Island is still a place I visit often, either alone, with my wife, or on a RICKA paddle.

Beavertail

One of the most scenic and exposed-coast locations in R.I. is Beavertail. It is located at the southern end of Jamestown, and is almost an island (being connected to the rest of Jamestown by a narrow causeway). It’s shaped like a…well…a beaver’s tail. Cliffs, rock gardens, pocket beaches, a sea cave, walking paths, fantastic fishing, open water conditions, and the second oldest in-use lighthouse in the U.S. (it has a small museum and a nature area/aquarium also)…it’s a virtual paradise for anyone who loves the exposed coast.

RIKA members have lunch on one of Beavertail's many pocket beaches — RIKA members have lunch on one of Beavertail’s many pocket beaches

Me in the X2 at the lighthouse (photo by RICKA member M. Krabach)

Ocean whitewater! Wave breaking over a submerged reef at Beavertail

I have an amusing story about Beavertail. I was spearfishing off the lighthouse there. As I was donning my mask, I noticed two Labrador retrievers watching me. I didn’t think much of it, and was soon geared up and heading out of a small cove to the open water at Newton Reef. I don’t know why, but a short while later, I looked back. The dogs were swimming, following me! Well, I said to myself, this isn’t good, I’ll have to lose them. So I turned up the power. After a short while, I looked back…I was gaining on them, but they were STILL following me!!! The last thing I wanted was to be out there, trying to spearfish and worrying about a couple of pooches, soooo…I REALLY turned on the power. After another short period of time I looked back again. The younger retriever had returned to shore, but the mother was STILL FOLLOWING ME!!! I got an idea. Facing the dog, I lifted my mask, spit out the snorkel, and pointing to shore, yelled out as loudly and as clearly as I could, “GO BACK!!!” The words were barely out of my mouth when the dog immediately turned around and headed to shore. I waited and watched, until she was all the way back, united with the other dog I presumed to be her son. The only thing I can figure is the dogs were concerned for my safety, and took it as their duty to protect me. When I said “go back”, this relieved the older dog of her duty. Good thing, as I believe she was getting tired. It was nice to know that there are dogs who are concerned about the welfare of a complete stranger!

Icicle cliffs...simply beautiful! — Icicle cliffs…simply beautiful!

Gould Island

Sometimes, if I only have time for a quick paddle, I go out to Gould Island. It’s a 5 mile round trip from Potter’s Cove that I can do in an hour or less, depending on conditions. The northern part of the island is an old Navy building that was involved with testing torpedoes. It is on pilings, so unless the tide is high, you can paddle under it. If there’s a significant chop, it makes for interesting kayaking.

On one such trip, after I emerged from under the building, I paddled amidst some pilings from an old pier. As I carefully stroked through the maze, I noticed a seagull in distress. Approaching closer, I could see the problem…the bird was tangled in some monofilament line, and had injured one of its wings trying to escape. The line apparently cut into the bird’s wing as it struggled, but it didn’t appear to be a recent injury, a couple of days old in my estimation. Well, I untangled the gull, as carefully as I could while dealing with all the flapping and commotion that resulted. I had the fleeting thought, “Why am I helping this gull, they can be so cruel to other creatures (like those cormorants on West Island)”. But then, I realized, they’re just wild creatures, doing what instinct tells them to…it’s not my place to judge, but it is an opportunity to help a fellow creature in distress. I didn’t know if this bird was strong enough to get by without further help, but that thought dissolved as I untied the last tangle, and…the gull flew away. I was happy that the gull was O.K., and I knew it appreciated being free again, as all wild animals…AND kayakers do. Observation: As water people, we know firsthand the worth of the marine environment. We should be advocates to protect this environment…and that includes the creatures that live there.

Pilings at the north end of Gould Island

Surfing in the Ocean State

One of the best kept secrets about Rhode Island is the fact that some of the best surfing on the east coast can be found along the open southern coastal regions of this smallest state. The Ruggles Ave. surf break is well known as a premier east coast venue for large waves. And the scenery at this break along Newport’s Cliff Walk is unparalleled, with a wild, rocky coast, and the famous Newport Mansions, the summer homes of the Vanderbilts, Belmonts, Astors, Berwinds, and other wealthy moguls. Another surf break is at Narragansett Town Beach…not the best break (usually close-out waves), but very convenient, and great if you want to practice your timing in close-out conditions. There are times, however, when the waves are breaking here decently.

One of my favorite breaks is actually within a system of three jetties, with two large gaps open to the exposed ocean. Waves, passing through these gaps, are refined and cleaned up…yes, they are a bit smaller, but if you like loooong smooooth rides sitting in the pocket the whole way, the K’s, within Galilee’s Harbor of Refuge, is your break.

Surfing at the K's on a small day — Surfing at the K’s on a small day

Even though the waves are a bit smaller, you can still get overhead or higher at times. Among other popular R.I. breaks are Matunuck, Point Judith, The Aves, South Shore Beach, Napatree Point, and First and Second Beaches. Swell and wind direction usually indicate which break will produce the best surfable waves.

Me in the X-15 at the R.I.S.K. session (Rhode Island Surf Kayakers), 02DEC2006

Block Island

Block Island lies 10.2 miles south of Point Judith, R.I. and about 14 miles east-northeast of Montauck, N.Y. Very early on in my kayaking days, I wanted to do a crossing from Pt. Judith to Block Island. This is not a paddle you want to do without major planning. There are currents from Long Island Sound, and you have to cross a major shipping channel, with all kinds of traffic traveling to and from New York City. I also wanted to bring my son Joshua along, 14 years old at the time, but VERY physically capable. Even so, I gave him a test…we went on a 14-mile non-stop paddle along the exposed coast. No problem. So, after a few weeks of doing research, questioning sailors familiar with those waters, and consulting nautical and tide/current charts, we finally got a day with favorable conditions. The 10 mile crossing to Block Island was actually uneventful, but I was glad I took a GPS unit as well as a compass…the angle our path made with the lighthouse on the north of Block Island changed VERY slowly, and it was reassuring to see via the GPS that we were, in fact, advancing toward our goal.

A few days later, Linda, a co-worker of mine, came up to me laughing. She had been at the East Providence Yacht Club, and had overheard a conversation about a couple of fools seen kayaking out to Block Island. She interrupted their conversation, saying, “I know those fools!” Now, it’s not that common, but kayakers DO go out to Block Island…what’s all the fuss about? Well, we did this trip in two Ocean Kayak Malibu II’s, veritable barges 12 feet long and 34 inches wide (the only kayaks I had at the time)! In my own defense, we were well equipped, with compass, GPS, nautical charts, air horn, flares, etc. And the Malibu II’s handle well in rough seas (handle well for “barges” anyway…they don’t have a flat bottom like many recreational kayaks do). But I’d never consider repeating that crossing, now that I know better. Soon after, I joined RICKA, and got to know what real kayaking is like. The lesson is: seek out advice and knowledge from other, more experienced kayakers, through instruction, kayak clubs, books, and the internet. (This website has been a fabulous source of information for me, with world-class experts covering navigation, cold water safety, kayaking skills, etc.)

The Adventure Continues

I hope you have enjoyed my adventures in the Ocean State. Truly, there are so many kayaking opportunities here. Even without the other nearby locations (Boston Harbor Islands, Fisher Island, Montauk, Cape Cod and the Islands, Buzzard Bay, etc.) and the opportunity for winter kayaking, it is truly a kayaking paradise!

We hope you have enjoyed Tony’s rhapsody on Rhode Island. Please feel free to add your thoughts and comments by clicking below. And if any of our readers have a special place they’d like to share, please let us know!

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!

Lore, Legends, and Magic – Magical Thinking and the Tsunami Ranger Approach to Sea Kayaking

“Let me not hear facts, figures and logic; fain would I hear lore, legends and magic.”
(From “Roots of Oak” by Donovan)

What is magical thinking? I first encountered this phrase in an article about grief. A man had died of cancer and his 11-year old daughter thought she was responsible for her father’s death because in the past she had wished he was dead. That’s one example. Some people seem to have an affinity for this type of thinking, others not. For instance, my parents are stone cold atheists. For them nothing exists except what we can see and touch. On the other hand, I have been a magical thinker all my life. Eric Soares was also a magical thinker and it enriched his life and helped him be the great sea kayaker he was.

Eric had a friend illustrate his vision of the Sea King

For the girl whose father died, magical thinking trapped her in guilt. But this type of thinking can have a positive influence too. Eric thought of himself as a Sea King. It sounds grandiose, but if you check out his photos and videos you’ll see it’s not inappropriate. His image of himself as a Sea King gave him power on the water. Here is a poem he wrote that expresses his vision:

The Sea King Returns

My people sailed the oceans of the water planet.
We used the earth’s magnetism for energy…
Developed the planet’s civilizations…
Established outposts…
Communicated with this world and others…
Inspired legends…
And left.

We planted seeds before we departed.
The seeds sprouted, flourished, flowered.
Now they bear fruit.

The ocean people return to the water planet.
The time is now. The magmatic magnetism
Is back. The volcanoes erupt, the earth shakes.

The sea king has returned.
He searches for his sea queen.
She will come back to the sea.
Soon.

Like a latter day Pied Piper Eric’s magnetic personality gathered like-minded people around him to share his vision. This concept developed into a tribal culture, an alternative lifestyle Eric and his best friend Jim Kakuk called HELL (see “Sea Kayaking is HELL”). The greater part of this lifestyle involves seeking freedom and transformation through sea kayaking. One of the Tsunami Rangers’ goals is to find places no one else goes in order to get away from Herberts, a nickname they picked up from an episode of the original Star Trek. (According to Spock, Herbert was a minor official notorious for his rigid and limited patterns of thinking.)

No rigid or limited patterns of thinking here - the Tsunami Rangers in Baja — No rigid or limited patterns of thinking here – the Tsunami Rangers in Baja

The Tsunami Rangers favor small groups, alter egos, secret place names, and pirate or gypsy costume. Their annual Sea Gypsy Race embodied this alternative concept, with no insurance, no commercial sponsors, and no official recognition other than that of the participants. Anyone who paddles in this race or in its more recent manifestation Reef Madness pretty much does it for the hell of it (drum roll please). First prize could turn out to be a mutant lemon the size of a cantaloupe. And you might break your boat.

Captain Jim Kakuk and Honorary Tsunami Ranger Kenny Howell - pirate costume or a really bad wig! — Captain Jim Kakuk and Honorary Tsunami Ranger Kenny Howell – pirate costume or a really bad wig!

Slots and punchbowls, caves and arches, reefs and sea stacks, the jubilant abundance of marine life, all these things create a world that calls the adventurer to explore deeper and deeper. The deeper we travel into this wild world, like Alice falling down the rabbit hole, the further behind we leave the mundane and tame. As with all magical places, there is darkness, confusion and fear. But these are things to overcome – the knight slays the dragon, the frog turns into a prince, Cinderella rises from the ashes. And we return from our adventure stronger, more alive, with joy in our hearts, a sparkle in our eyes, and a tale to tell.

Just as the veil between the Seen and Unseen is thinnest at dawn and dusk, the veil is also thin at the places where earth and water meet. Anywhere there is an edge, a seam as it were in the world or in our selves, that’s where transformation occurs. Eric was all about transformation at the edge. He actively sought and found transcendence there, and those of us who followed him to that edge were transformed as well. Eric loved the ocean and he believed that it loved him in return. That attitude allowed him to engage the ocean on an intimate level.

Then there are omens. Propitiating the sea gods is an ancient practice. After all, sailors are among the most superstitious of people. Before they venture out, the Tsunami Rangers perform a salutation to the sea. The first time I kayaked after Eric died I went out with Tsunami Rangers Jim Kakuk and Scott Becklund. As we prepared to launch, I asked Jim what about a salutation. He said, “You do it”. I’m not a Ranger and I always salute the water in my own way, so I did Surya Namaskar, the yoga sun salutation. Just as we assumed plank position, our hands in the sand as we faced the sea, an energetic little wave swept in and swirled around our wrists as though the ocean was inviting us to play. We took that as an auspicious omen and we had an amazing day.

The Tsunami Rangers salute the sea on retreat in 2008

And let’s not forget the Balrog. Anyone familiar with J.R.R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings knows about the Balrog. For the Tsunami Rangers, the Balrog dwells at the back of sea caves. You can hear him roar from time to time. When you do, you don’t go in there. Eric loved this idea so much he had a friend create this picture:

The Balrog awaits the unwary Wave Warrior

On another note, Tsunami Ranger Michael Powers practices rune reading. On February 1, the day Eric died, Michael drew the rune for Breakthrough Transformation Day. He sent me the reading. Here are a few choice bits: “Drawing Dagaz marks a major shift or breakthrough in the process of self-change, a complete transformation…For some the transition is so radical that they no longer continue to live the ordinary life in the ordinary way…the magnitude of the transformation might be so total as to portend a death…” There are over 50 of these runes and each can be read two ways so the likelihood of drawing such a relevant reading on that particular day would seem to be slim. But there it is.

Whether or not they are magical thinkers most sea kayakers are answering the call of the sea and what is that but magical? How can the sea call to us? What do we hear? Yet off we go on our adventures, whether on a major expedition or a short estuarine paddle. And each time we come back with a story, and we are transformed, however slightly, by our experience. If Eric had not been a magical thinker the Tsunami Rangers would never have come to be. I believe the more we open to magic the more it enters and supports our lives. But it only comes to those who have eyes to see and ears to hear. As Jon Turk would say, every moment of our lives we have the choice whether or not to engage the magic. For my part, I choose to engage. A world without magic would be dull indeed.

Do you believe in magic? Can it affect our lives? Our kayaking? Share your thoughts by clicking below.