Fool's Errand

In my post "Chasing Stars" I wrote that I felt chasing stars was a "fool's errand". Based on feedback in both the blog comments and feedback delivered in person, I think I may not have been clear and led people to misunderstand what I was criticizing.
I was not saying that pursuing training, continually learning new skills, or any other means of growing as a paddler (or as a person) was foolish. Nor was I discounting the fact that some people learn better with formal instruction or by following a highly structured regimen or by watching videos or by whatever method works. Continual learning is highly valued in my book. Having spent years teaching, I also understand that people learn best in wildly different ways.
I was questioning two things:

1. The wisdom of pursuing "ranks" as a recreational paddler. My answer here is personal. I do not see the benefit of spending the extra time and money to be evaluated and ranked. Other people find value in the evaluations and the ranking. I do not understand it, but I respect it.


2. The value of a ranking system that is based on high stakes testing. This does not diminish the difficulty of the tests, nor the achievement of passing the tests. It just reflects my belief that a high stakes test is not an ideal way to evaluate a person's skills. I know people, myself included, who excel at taking tests without learning much beyond how to pass the test. I also know people who actually learn the material and choke under the pressure of taking a test.

Starting the Year Off Paddling

At work the new year started off with a bang of the wrong kind. It was a short work week that ended up feeling like two. So when PB e-mailed to see if I was interested in paddling today I jumped at the chance. I needed to do something to rebalance the scales and the forecast looked like a winner.
JS had suggested Hull as a possibility and PB and I were keen on taking him up on the idea. Hull is local to Waltham compared to most spots on Narragansett Bay. It is also a spot we don't often paddle. There is too much boat, and beach, traffic during the summer. The Gut also dictates the days it is appropriate to paddle out of Hull.
PB e-mailed JS to see if he was still up for the trip, but JS said he was feeling under the weather. However, he also said he could make himself feel better if we were definitely going. A few e-mails and phone calls later, PB and I decided we were definitely going to go. We hoped that JS, and a few other stalwart RI paddlers, would make the commute to the northern wilderness. There was always the chance that an MA based paddler would see the message board post and show. However, we decided that even if it was only the two of us we'd paddle.
While the standard wisdom is "on the sea always three," we figured that there were conservative routes inside of Hull's protection that would be reasonable. We could circumnavigate Peddocks or explore the Weir River. If other paddlers showed up, we could change routes and explore the outer harbor.
After getting a little lost on the way through Hull (I always get lost getting to the Hull put-in), I found PB and JS getting ready. We had the magic number.
The weather was sunny and calm, but still cold. High tide had just passed so we'd have the current with us. PB wanted to possibly paddle around Lovells, but JS pointed out that it was pretty boring. So, we turned our bows towards Green Island. The rough plan was to lunch on Green. Then we would make our way back to Hull meandering through the Brewsters.
The current pushed us towards Green at a fast clip. JS estimated that we were moving at 5 miles an hour and were not paddling hard. We arrived at Green much earlier and less tired than expected.
Graves Light was looming in the distance and calling in us. Fortunately, JS and PB had their sensible hats firmly attached. We decided not to the extra distance. There is no place to land on Graves and the winter is no time to take silly chances.

Instead, we spent some time wondering if there were any seals in Boston Harbor and then turned towards Outer Brewster to find a lunch spot. Outer Brewster offered plenty of cliffs, frozen rocks, and spots to play. JS and PB found a nice run through some rocks along Outer Brewster and decided to enjoy their new kayaks. PB made the run but scuffed up his bow. JS took a different line through the slot but also managed to scuff his kayak. After watching the other two and the slot, I picked a perfect line and slipped through without a scratch. (It is good being last!!) My scratch free status didn't last long. We found a few other places to play in the rocks and I found a rock that was happy to scuff the Q-boat. I misread how fast the water evacuated an area and rubbed the rocks.
After we played in the rocks and determined that we were not going to lunch on Outer Brewster, we started to move onto Middle Brewster. Before we got very far, we encountered a pod of about six seals. We hadn't seen any seals all morning and thought that Boston Harbor may not have a seal population. These seals seemed curious but kept their distance.
Middle Brewster was also inhospitable for lunch. So, we paddled over to Boston Harbor Light. The landing there is not great, but it is serviceable. I was hoping that their would be a light keeper home so that we could get a tour of the light!! Or just a sheltered spot to eat. Instead, we found a no trespassing sign.
PB found a nice sunny rock ledge, with a back rest, along the beach. We ate a leisurely lunch and had interesting conversation. It was very relaxing, but the sun had slipped behind the hazy clouds and a slight breeze started. We needed to get moving before we got chilled.
The paddle back to Windmill Point was slower than the paddle to the outer islands. The current was against us and the slight breeze chilled us. To pass the time we talked about teaching people how to roll. JS, who is a certified instructor, said to share your own experiences with learning to roll - but not scare the students too much. I was not a roller who picked it up the first, or the 20th, class. We also talked about different ways to approach the technique. JS is a Euro blade paddler and felt that the standard start with hip flicks and move to a C-to-C progression worked best. I had taken a Greenland rolling class where they started with learning how body position effected the balance of the boat and the hip flick was never mentioned. I found the Greenland course to be more helpful than any of the more commonly taught classes. Different strokes for different folks.
Back at the put-in, I felt compelled to do one roll. It is a silly compulsion and today reminded me of just how silly a compulsion it is. I did the roll; it was hardly smooth; I rushed the whole thing. When I popped up my head felt like it was in a vice grip. I wasn't disoriented and could think clearly, but I was in pain. I was very happy to have to excellent paddlers nearby for support and the beach a few feet away.
Once off the water, my headache subsided. We all changed into warm clothes before dealing with the kayaks. The kayaks were quickly car topped. Once our gear was stowed and the kayaks secured, we headed to a nice bakery for coffee and pastry.
With a kickoff like this one, 2008 promises to be a very good year.

Best Paddle of '07

The end of the year seems to awaken the need to reflect back on the year as a whole. (Personally, I think reflection should be an everyday event, but I have a job that requires a lot of sitting around thinking...)
This has been one hell of a year for me. I purchased a house and got married in the middle of the year. I picked up the responsibility for my local kayaking club's Web presence, managed to keep up a blog, grew aquatinted with a new stick, ND discovered (and lost for now) a forward finishing roll. At work, I spearheaded a pilot to rethink the way my team produces content, wrapped my head around the realities of documenting open source software, and trained a new writer.
I also managed to do an awful lot of excellent kayaking. If I hadn't managed to kayak as much as I did I likely would have gone totally bonkers. Kayaking is my coping mechanism, my way of processing life.
There were many lessons learned over the course of the year, but most were of the personal kind that don't translate well into words. Nor do they make for very interesting blog reading.
So to reflect back on '07, I'll do something that will be more fun to read about than my reflections on what I think I know about what I learned about myself while paddling my kayak. I decided I'd actually try to choose a best paddle from 2007. I figured it would be tough to narrow it down to even a few paddles. They were all excellent in their own ways.
To my relief two paddles glowed brighter in my mind than the others:
* Paddling in Glacier Bay, AK for several days as part of my honeymoon (see here)
* Playing in the full moon currents at the mouth of the Westport River (see here)
The two paddles were as different as could be. In Alaska the water was calm and the paddling was mellow. We only had one day where we pushed for distance. On the Westport the water was rough and the paddling adrenaline fueled. We only took brief breaks from the action.
Yet they both represented a step out of my comfort box.
The Glacier Bay trip took was my first real back country excursion. I've done kayak camping before, but Alaska was on a different level. Once we left the ranger station we were alone in bear country. There was very little boat traffic and very few people. Our radios were only marginally helpful since we could not directly radio to the ranger station. It was spectacular, regenerative, and scary. I left that trip with a greater respect for nature and more confidence in our ability to survive.
The Alaska trip also represented the first leg of an even more exciting journey: marriage. After surviving the hazing ritual that is wedding planning (not to mention buying a house at the same time), I was pretty sure a few days in the woods wouldn't be much of a problem for H & I. We'd also done some camping and traveling together before Alaska, but Alaska was more intense. We also had relied on our traveling companions to do most of the planning, so we felt a little out of sorts from the get go.
The Westport River trip was the first time I really pushed things in racing currents. We had done some current practice the day before and the currents were arguably more turbulent. However, the space at Stone Bridge makes rescues easier. A paddler being washed out of the race at Stone Bridge will hit calm water in short order and beaches are easily accessible for resting. A paddler in trouble at the mouth of the Westport River is going to get washed into Buzzards Bay before the current lets them go and getting to a beach is either a long paddle or a fight against tough currents. The mouth of the Westport River also had more boat traffic than Stone Bridge. Taking a chance there was much more nerve wracking.
Part of what made the Westport River trip more exciting/fulfilling than the previous outing at Stone Bridge was also the group of paddlers with whom I was paddling. The group at Stone Bridge was excellent. They provided a lot of safety, good company, and opportunities to practice rough water rescues. However, the group on the Westport River was one that makes it easier for me to push my limits. We paddle together all of the time and that familiarity breeds an extra level of comfort. We all know how the others in the group paddle and approach risk.
If I had to choose just one paddle as the best, I'd pick Alaska. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity. I'll get other shots at big currents at the mouth of the Westport River.
Enough looking back - on to some great living in 2008!

A Lovely Ending

December has been a tough month for me in terms of getting on the water. The Q-Boat was in the shop for a few minor repairs (new deck lines, repairing a section of shoddy seam tapping, and one more attempt to fix the leaky back hatch). It being the holiday season, H and I had a number of visiting commitments that fell on weekends.
Today was the only day that looked clear. I needed to take a number of vacation days from work (use them or loose them policy) and one of H's friends was up visiting. I was clear and desperate to get on the water. I sent out e-mails trying to gauge interest and got a few responses. When I tried to firm up plans, I got silence. I was not surprised since it was Christmas Eve. I kept checking to see if anyone was going to join me.
As the hours passed, I started to get desperate and started thinking about doing a solo trip. I generally avoid solo trips for safety reasons - even in the warm weather - but I wanted to paddle. I could have taken the kayak up to Walden Pond (if it wasn't iced over and the parking lot was plowed), I could have found a local river to paddle, or I could plot out a very conservative paddle in upper Narragansett Bay. Or I would most likely listen to my sensible self and stay safely on dry land.
Christmas morning I saw CR and her husband's post that they would be paddling out of West Island in Fairhaven, MA on the 26th. I would be able to paddle!! Then I got an e-mail from PB asking if we should join CR. Melancholy turned to joy. I couldn't remember paddling in the area, but any time on the water was going to be great.
I got directions and set out early in the morning. As I neared the put-in the roads looked familiar, but a lot of back roads near water look familiar after awhile. PB was convinced that I had paddled here last year, but I was still drawing a blank.
The forecast was for a partly cloudy day with temps in the low 40s. It was a perfect day for winter paddling. PB, CR, and I set out into flat conditions with minimal winds. There was a bit of current, but it was not enough to be a factor. It was perfect for waking up my dormant paddle mind.
Slowly I began finding the rhythm of the blades in the water. I found the right angle of the stick and the right places to apply the power. My balance settled into place. The behavior of the Q-Boat started to feel familiar. After about a half-hour I was the groove. My muscles were achy from disuse, but they were happy.
The original plan was to circumnavigate West Island, but PB wanted to check out Ram Island. CR, who had the chart, altered our course accordingly.
The water was spotted with buoys and birds. There were pods of ducks that CR thought were eiders floating on the water.

Within a mile we were spotting seals. Then we paddled into the aquaculture pens and we were surrounded by seals. The seals kept a distance, but did not look shy. They would follow behind our kayaks. We paddled backwards for a bit to try and catch glimpses of them. CR sang to the seals which they seemed to like.
We lunched on Mattapoisett Neck. It was a feast of PB&J, chicken soup, tea, Christmas treats, and H's corn bread. The sun kept us from getting too chilled, so we didn't rush.
From the beach we could see Seal Island. It is a bunch of rocks covered with seals.
After lunch we plotted our return trip so that we would not retrace our steps and keep a safe distance from Seal Island. The course took us about a 1/4 mile north of Seal island. As we passed by, the seals came along and checked us out. This batch of seals got even closer than the seals in the morning.
As we approached West Island we spotted more eiders. There was also a couple of buffel heads. The buffel heads were easy to spot because they stayed clear of the main group and because of the large white spot on the back of the male's head.
As we rounded the eastern point of West Island we spotted a seal hauled out on the rocks. We changed course to give it a wide berth and not disturb it. A little latter we were surprised by another seal that was hauled out on a random rock. We did our best to give it plenty of room. Fortunately, the seal didn't appeared to be bothered by our presence.
Back at the put-in, I tried a few rolls. I don't enjoy dunking myself in 40 degree water, but I feel like I must. A roll is a delicate thing and I think it is important to practice it at least once a paddle - especially in the winter.
The paddle was just what the doctor ordered. We had a beautiful winter day in MA. The distance was enough to make me feel it, but not enough to make me sore for days. The conditions were boring, but that is fine for a winter paddle. The seals made for interesting viewing. And the company was - as always - excellent.
Upon returning home, I got an e-mail from PB with a link to my blog entry about paddling West Island last year....
Here's looking forward to some great paddling in '08.

Chasing Stars

For the last year, TM and I have discussed the value of working up through the BCU star system. TM was uncertain at first. Then he figured if he could pass the 3 star evaluation and the 4 star evaluation in one year, it would be OK. Then he'd be in great position to go through the 5 star training the following year. At the very least the training would be a worthwhile experience.
I, on the other hand, dismissed the whole thing. The value of the training is limited by the fact that I wouldn't be allowed to use my paddle of choice. I'd heard the BCU training is exclusively for Euro blades and I'm a stick monkey. I was not about to give up my stick for a patch and a pat on the back.
So, TM took the 3 star training and evaluation. TM has 10-plus years experience in a kayak and is as strong a paddler as any of the 4 star paddlers I see on a regular basis. He failed the evaluation because he didn't look perfect performing maneuvers in flat water. He also reported that the skills taught at the course were pretty basic. It was a pretty disheartening experience.
TM's experience only reinforced my feelings that chasing stars is a fool's errand.
I enjoy and value getting instruction from people who are more skilled and experienced than I. I soak up their advice, their instruction, their hints, and their adjustments. Then I go off and make the technique fit my personal conditions - the reality of my kayak, my paddle, my body.
I also value simply paddling a lot: in big groups, in small groups, in all sorts of conditions. One of the joys of kayaking is that every paddle is a learning experience. Each time out I refine my boat control skills a little more. I learn something new about functioning in a group. I learn a little more about reading conditions. I learn a little bit more about managing risk. I learn a little bit more about how mistaken paddlers who believe in a "bomb-proof" roll and being completely self-sufficient are about reality.
I wonder how much I'd learn from the classes that prep for an evaluation. My SAT and GRE test courses taught me little more than how to take the test. I also wonder what passing the evaluation really signifies. I got great SAT and GRE scores, but was a lousy college student. I got great test scores in most of my engineering classes, but was a lousy engineer. It took a lot of time, effort, and experience before the skills I demonstrated with high test scores became useful in the real world.
I guess for me it is not worth the time or money to work at passing a couple of tests. I'd rather spend my time and effort paddling, learning, and growing. I'd rather spend my money getting instruction geared towards building skills and not towards passing a test.
I also cannot see myself caring too much about the number of stars on a paddler's PFD. Good paddlers are easy to spot with or without stars.