Cybersecurity Newsbites: Be Careful Out There

Just A Picture of A Boat in the Weeds

This is from Bogles Wharf at Eastern Neck Island.

Kayaks That Fly Through The Air With The Greatest of Ease

For the first 15 years or so of having a house with a garage, I never had room in the garage for cars at all - and that was a two car garage. Bicycles, lawn mowers/tractors, radial arm saws and just plain old junk invariably took up all the room. So, when we moved into our new house I was determined to actually have room for cars in the garage. I put up lots of wall storage for ladders, put the five bicycles up on another wall and luckily it is a three car garage so one side can be dedicated to all the lawn weapons of mass destruction.

That worked fine until kayaking came along - kayaks are huuuge. I've been keeping them outside but with the new, expensive toy coming soon, I knew I wanted to store them inside and it looked like above the garage doors was the only solution. I played around with designs just using off-the-shelf ropes and pulleys, but the thought of kayaks falling out of the ceiling onto the cars or our heads wasn't very appealing. Then I saw the Harken Hoister systems and for $79 realized it was the way to go - not much more than buying the parts and it includes a racheting block and tackle rig that makes it a lot safer.

As usual, it took me about four times as long as I thought it would take to do the installation - mostly due to lining up a 2 x 6 over drywall-covered ceiling joists, but it works great. I can even drive the truck into the garage with the boat on the cradles and hoist it from there. Now, if the hoist could only include a built-in kayak wash and dry system...

Kayaks In The Mist

No doubt about it - daylight savings time is really over. I tried to sneak in an after work paddle and ended up paddling across Triadelphia Reservoir in almost pitch darkness. The picture to the left is actually just after I started and that was about as light as it got. It was actually a very cool time to paddle - the water was smooth as a baby's behind and there were scads of geese on the water. On the way back, it really was dark and the geese were freaking out - I was surrounded by honking and would get within yards of them before they would start flapping their wings, throw up phosphorescent spray and take off. On the way back I had to navigate by the lights on the dam and I was afraid the Water Police might lock the gate at the ramp and trap my truck inside. However, I guess they do it at official sunset or so, not darkness.

I used my new Epic Wing paddle and I took 3 minutes off my usual 6.3 mile round trip time - I guess that is about a 5% improvement, pretty good. The Epic paddle unexpectedly came with white blades, which almost seemed to glow in the dark as I paddled back. I wonder what that looked like from the shore - I bet there are reports of ghosts or UFOs flying over the reservoir.

It looks like the folks at Google Earth have updated their imagery - you can see in the map below how low the water is at Triadelphia - that big white blob to the northwest of the start/finish was just a shallow spot in the spring, then it was two islands and now it is one gigantic island. All that white space along the shore wasn't there in the spring, either. You can see how the water in the coves (especially on the north side) doesn't reach the woods at all - none of the other access areas are open because of the low levels. The water level was actually up maybe 6 inches or so since my last paddle, which actually made it a bit trickier as I knew there were some obstacles (like rocks and submerged tree trunks) that were visible last week that weren't visible now. However, I managed to navigate by memory and not get dumped into the rapidly cooling water.

Hiking An Old Standby Is Better Than Sitting At Home and Watching the Redskins Lose

It seems like we've trivialized Veteran's Day - it doesn't even get a Monday holiday anymore. Well, maybe it does - but who knows? On my calendars it shows up on Sunday. I guess these days the definitive source is, as usual, Google. Yup, Google has dressed up its logos with helmets, so today must be Veteran's Day.  So, thanks to all you veterans out there and now back to our regularly scheduled programme.

In honor of Veteran's Day, not to mention the beautiful weather, Carl and I decided to do a veteran of a hike, Sugarloaf Mountain. We did the usual Northern Peaks trail, which is a nice 5 mile loop with lots of ups and down, and a number of the climbs bring you to nice view points.  The leaf color is pretty wimpy this year but a few decent reds and lots of yellows out there. It was international day on the trail as we passed other hikers speaking several languages. Only a few people with those ski pole walking sticks - I don't quite understand what those are for. I got back early enough to put the kayak on Rocky Gorge for a 9 mile paddle before the sun set, getting to see several bald eagles and a few surveillance turtles taking late season swims. So a nice mini biathlon - nothing exciting but lots of fresh air.

Some photos from Sugarloaf:

Precocious Paddler Turns Peddlers to Patrons

When the World Wide Web was first getting started, it was often trumpeted as the equivalent of having an unlimited number of radio and TV broadcast channels - everyone could be a broadcaster. Of course, it turned out that very few were very good at broadcasting, and the majority of podcasts and videos are of the "swinging a dead cat in my back yard" variety - chock-full of annoying advertising, to boot. Blogs started with the same promise - "everyone can be a publisher" - but so many of them are just chains of people commenting on each other's blogs. Even worse, they are either stuffed with advertising or are written by those who are trying to sell us something, so the writing is actually disguised advertising.

So, when I came across the blog of an 11 year old girl (Boo) whose mother has breast cancer, and who was kayaking with her father as a way to raise awareness for breast cancer, I was really touched. There is hope after all in the Web, it just takes more work to find the gems under so much manure. Even better, it turns out even some ads can be gems.

If you go to this page on Boo's blog, you can click on a link that bring up a page of ads. Just by going to that page you cause the sponsors of the ads to give money to support the Breast Cancer Site and Greater Good Network.  How cool is that?

Burning More Energy Before the End of DST

Halloween came and went - and still we had Daylight Saving Time. It is pretty hard for me to believe extending DST a few weeks in the beginning and a week at the end really saved anyone any energy, but it definitely made me more energetic to get some exercise in before it all ended. So, this was the last opportunity to squeeze in a tri-sport weekend of biking, hiking and kayaking - pretty much in that order.

Carole was driving to Beltsville to run with her friend Bernadette, so I decided I'd bike down that way and use Carole as a sag wagon to take me back. Hurricane Noel was moving up the east coast, but was staying well offshore. Since it was rotating counter-clockwise, it meant I had NNW winds essentially at my back for much of the ride. I thought I could find an alternate route to get me across Route 1 and the railroad in Beltsville, but no such luck - I wandered aimlessly for a while until cutting through an industrial park and going over the Muirkirk Road bridge. I passed the site of the old Rhodes Tavern and made my way to the Beltsville Agricultural Research Center where there are all kinds of low traffic and closed roads to bike on. I went all the way out on Beaver Dam Road and circled back, slogged up Research Road to the gate into Greenbelt and after 34 miles met Carole just as she finished her run.

The next day Carl and I did one of the easier Appalachian trail hikes, a a 6 mile out and back from the Route 70 AT pedestrian bridge to Washington Monument State Park. There is a little bit of up and down on this hike, but it is pretty mild. A good deal of color in the woods but this is not a prime year for brilliant foliage. When we reached the monument (which looks like a giant beehive) the hawk counters were at the top, having excitable discussions about raptors and pheasants and booby hatches. We climbed to the top, looked around and headed back - other than photo stops we pretty much did a non-stop hike.

After getting back from hiking, I completed the weekend triathlon by putting the kayak in at the Supplee area of Rocky Gorge. The water is way down and the launch ramp is closed, but you can carry your boat down about 100 feet and put in. The wind was still up and was in my face for most of the outward 4.5 miles, but of course was at my back for the return. I saw the obligatory herons, a few deer and a few eagles, but no bald eagles and very few boaters. I used the 9.2 mile paddle to get more comfortable using the new wing paddle and just enjoyed being on the water. I have to admit though - a day of being on salt water always gives a better feeling than the same time on fresh water. Time to get back to the Bay.

A Googlefied map of the paddle and some other pictures of the AT hike:

Has Kayaking Jumped the Shark? Boo Means Nope.

Now, this may fall under the heading of "Too Much Information" but some people read in the bathroom and some don't. If you do, you need reading material - it is a big decision and I'm sure some sociologist has done a study on this. If not, I'm sure many bloggers have written millions of word about it, so I'll cut this short - my choice is Time magazine, after years ago deserting my parent's standard for the bathroom library, Reader's Digest.

OK, if you must know: Reader's Digest is monthly and just doesn't provide enough material to last for a month. Time magazine is weekly, so there you go.

One thing about Time magazine is that whenever  it declares something is a new trend, it means either:

1. Two people bogged about doing something like ear candling or trampolines for goldfish and Time says it is sweeping the planet.
2. The trend has peaked and there will be lots of Tae Bo videotapes and Segway scooters showing up for sale on eBay.

So, I started to worry when I noticed an article in the this week's edition of Time on kayaking - uh oh. It must mean that a drastic decline is kayaking is right around the corner as everyone moves to kite surfing or solar powered pogo sticking.

The print article had some additional pictures that  labeled the cargo hatches on kayaks "deep wells" (if they turn into deep wells, you are probably sinking) but it also included an analyst quote about the decline in group sports and the growth of more individual sports like archery and kayaking:

"It's really part of this greater trend of people wanting to self-express themselves," says Mark J. Penn, author of Microtrends.

Now, of course, other trend-watchers are declaring a resurgence in group sports, like kickball and probably duck, duck, goose. Seems like health club group exercise classes are a big growth industry and there sure seem to be loads of groups of old people hopping on buses and jamming casinos (and every Chinese restaurant in my area,) So, I dunno about this self-expression stuff but now I have this image in my head of bringing a cross-bow while I kayak and being able to really express myself when an annoying jet skier gets too close.

And then I read a kayak blog by an 11 year old girl (SuperBoo) whose mother has breast cancer and I know kayaking has a lot of miles left.

B Cubed, MC Squared: Brian "The Blur" Blankinship's Mayor's Cup Manhattan Circumnavigation

Today we have a guest blogger, Brian Blankinship. Brian is the guy I see briefly at the start of kayak races, but he then rapidly becomes a tiny dot off in the distance. He had an impressive finish in the recent Mayor's Cup Race around Manhattan and here is Brian's account of that unique event:

THE DREAM - At the Holm Schmidt racing clinic before the SK102 paddling weekend held by the Chesapeake Paddlers Association at Lake Anna, VA, Holm asked us our racing goals for the year. Cyndi said she was going to do the Mayor's Cup Race, a 28 mile, around Manhattan run through sometimes heavy seas and strong currents. She had been trying to talk me into it for awhile. When my turn came, I said “don’t tell Cyndi (who was sitting next to me), but my goal is the Mayor’s Cup.”

Holm made several changes to my stroke and really got me psyched for a year of good racing. Then my retina detached. In January I had cataract surgery on my right eye and was off the water for about five weeks. I was finally back on and ready to go when the retina in the same eye detached. Now I was off the water for at least another five weeks and not allowed to elevate my heart rate or lift more than 10 pounds. I missed the first two CPA races and was not allowed to paddle until the 4th of July.

On July 14, I won the third CPA race with almost no training, but I was now using my new Kevlar Epic V10L which I find faster than my old Carbon fiber V10. I skipped the Broadkill race to see the John Smith Shallop on the Patuxent, and was too lazy to go to the Deal Island Race. Unfortunately, those were the two local races with prize money.

I went to the Wicomico Kayak Attack race, because I sort of caused the promoter to put it on. Joe Warren, who won the Deal Race the week before, was there so I assumed I would be shooting for second place. Shortly after the start, Joe was ahead and came to a bridge that was too low for a racing stroke, so he started coasting. I threw in a couple hard strokes and coasted past him. For the rest of the race I was able to hold him off and I won, beating him by 51 seconds.

I then went to the Wye Island Regatta where I came in third overall, behind John DePalma who competes on the US National Team in the World Championships and Holm Schmidt, the former East German Olympian. I decided I might be able to do this Mayor’s Cup race after all.

THE PREPARATION - I didn't train much. I did a Wye Island double circumnavigation with Cyndi, Susan, and John Pescatore, and one 20 miler with Cyndi. Both of those were more than a month before the race. I did a couple of sprints, and the Monday before the race, I tried to do a 20 mile paddle but I bonked badly at 12 miles.

I emailed Cyndi and Bill Vickers for advice on nutrition. Both gave me invaluable council. I went to REI and took some advice from a salesman that didn’t pan out. I ended up buying protein drinks that were too intense for use during the race, but fortunately Cyndi and Bill set me straight before I launched. Around 0700 I was pinging them about it. At 0900 Bill checked on me, but I had settled on my nutrition plan and was relaxed.

THE EQUIPMENT - I was paddling my Epic 18x in standard (fiberglass) layup. The paddle is an Epic Mid Wing, full carbon set at 210cm with a 45 degree feather. I carried two 70oz Polar Pak bladders of Frost Gatorade and 16oz of Accelerade in a Camelbak on the front deck, along with an Accelerade recovery drink and a bottle of plain water just in case. For food, I had one cut up Clif bar on one side of my PFD pouch and a cut up apple divided into two zip-locks on the other side. I ended up eating 3/4 of the Clif bar, and half the apple. I also ate most of one bag of Sports beans, out of the three I carried.

I planned to wear the same tank top I wore at Wye, but it was colder than expected. I ended up wearing the tank top and a long sleeve shirt and shorts. I wore a spray skirt (neoprene deck, cloth tunnel) and the PFD was the new Astral Hybrid, which was nice because I could stick food in the area where the inflation bladder is stored.

THE RACE - I launched only about two minutes before the start of the fourth "flight", which was the Fast Touring class. When I got to the start line, my water system was not connected correctly and another person helpfully stabilized my kayak while I fixed it. I would have been in a bad way had I not fixed the 70 oz of Gatorade on the deck behind me.

When we started, we had to make a hard right turn out of the marina into the Hudson River. Six boats started out ahead of me, and after about two miles a Kevlar Epic 18X started to pass, but then fell back. My first target was Christian Barker in a Kayakpro Nemo. At this point my heart rate was about 165 BPM which is fine for a 12 mile race, but I knew I was not going to hold that for 28 miles. The good news is we were going over 8 MPH. The water was pushing, although I didn’t know it at the time, and there was significant wake action from boats going by. Some of the wakes were 2.5 feet tall (neck high).

Christian was 50 feet ahead to my left and Bill Vickers, paddling a Kevlar Epic 18X, was 75 feet ahead to my right. Finally I slipped past Christian, and Bill took an outside line trying to get more push from the river. My line was straight behind the lead Fast Touring kayak, but the front four were now about 300 yards ahead.

A ferry boat coming from NJ started towards us. I yelled to Bill “look left.” We both poured it on and were able to slip by in front of it. The boat was probably 50 yards to Bill’s left, putting it about 75 yards from me. I don’t know if the people behind me had to wait or not.

Around mile seven I passed Bill and set my sights on Glen Jabkowski, who was paddling a Kirton Anuk. He had a vertical stripe of reflective material on the back of his PFD and I just studied it as it rotated from side to side. At this point I first started to feel like I was getting hungry, so I pulled out my cut up Clif bar and crammed a large piece in my mouth. After a few strong pulls on the Gatorade I felt better. Not sure how much was real and how much was psychosomatic, but it worked.

I looked around the city a bit as I paddled and marveled at all the steel and glass. Really quite impressive, if not very natural. Under the George Washington Bridge there is a red lighthouse. Kind of curious to see it there, but it made a great landmark and was striking in its contrast. As I approached the bridge, I started to pass the back of the Touring class of racers that had launched about 15 minutes earlier than my flight. I was feeling pretty good about passing them, until a C2 said “Oh my …” and I looked left to see the front of the Elite/Surfski paddlers going by. I was holding around eight MPH and they were going at least four MPH faster. They were out in the middle of the river by the channel and getting a better push, but they were clearly far faster paddlers. Reading reports later, I found they periodically switched positions, with each taking turns leading and resting in their diamond formation. Glen got a boost watching them as he started pulling ahead again.

A bit later, I was starting to draw closer to Glen, who was in fourth place, but the rest of the Fast Touring leaders were pulling away. I felt confident that if I raced my own race, I could overtake Glen by the end. As we turned the corner into the Harlem River, Glen cut under a bridge which appeared to me to be too low. He had no trouble paddling under it, so I followed. I could not see any current effect on the rocks on the side but followed Glen’s track anyway. He was holding steady about 75 yards ahead. My speed dropped from a constant 8 MPH to about 7 MPH. Actually it felt good and I was in a groove. My heart rate was holding around 155-160 and I was comfortable. Again I could feel my legs and arms starting to cramp and I was feeling low on fuel. Gatorade really works for me when I feel that way, but I needed more solid fuel as well. I pulled out the zip-lock with apple slices in it and ate a few.

I recognized the rail yards on the right that I had seen on Google Earth. I wish I had paid more attention to where Yankee Stadium and the UN were, as I missed them completely. Cruising down the Harlem, I saw a Valley Rapier, paddled by Bill Bergeron, falling back. I asked if he was OK and he said he was beat. He had bonked and hit the wall like I was afraid would happen to me. That put Glen in third and me in fourth. I believed I could place in the top three instead of being “first loser” in fourth.

The Peter Jay Sharp boathouse is the half way point and you have to call out your number. Glen was now only 10 seconds ahead of me and I loudly called out “Sixty three.” He turned, looked at me, and then started pouring it on. Clearly this was a tactical error on my part, but I figured he would burn out from his sprint and I would gain on him again in the second half.

Soon I saw Cyndi ahead and I called out to her. I pulled up behind and drafted long enough to cram the other 1/4 apple in my mouth. After drafting for around thirty seconds, I told her to jump on my draft, but I don’t think she liked the pace I was setting because she let me slip away. Over the course of the next four miles, I pulled up behind two other kayaks and drafted for a few breaths. I believe I drafted about a total of a minute over the course of the entire race.

Glen and the boats ahead of him were staying way right. I still could not see the effects of the current on the rip-rap, but decided they might know something I didn’t and I followed their line near shore. Before reaching Hell’s Gate, I saw an NYC Police boat coming up the river around 8 MPH and a Kevlar racing kayak (possibly a Destroyer) was drafting it. It drafted the NYPD boat past me, and past three other kayaks ahead of me. I later learned he drafted it for several miles, passing a lot of people. The race rules said: “Sportsmanship also requires that competitors find within themselves the mettle to complete the course.” I find it hard to believe drafting a motor boat meets the intent of this statement but I was told later he asked for clarification and understood this was OK.

Hell’s Gate is reported to have up to six foot standing waves, confused from the confluence of three rivers meeting. Many ships have wrecked here over time and the largest explosion in the world before the atomic bomb was set off during the dredging of this spot. I was concerned about Hell’s Gate, not so much from the size of the waves as from fear of having a strong current running against me.

I was now 20 miles into the race, and knowing the rough water was coming, I wanted to be fueled before I arrived. I ate some more Clif Bar, sucked down a bunch of Gatorade, and sipped some Accelerade. At first I felt a nice energy boost, but then I started to feel I put too much on my stomach. There was nothing to do but keep paddling. My pace slowed to 5-6 MPH at this point. When I crossed under the blue bridge at Ward’s Island, I opened a pack of Sport Beans (jelly beans with electrolytes) and ate three. Again I got a feeling of a boost and felt primed for Hell’s Gate. I was towards the middle of the river and a USCG rigid hull inflatable pulled up and said “It would be good if you moved to the Manhattan side.” I nodded and slid back to the right. I could see Mill Rock ahead. This was where we were to keep to river right just before Hell’s Gate to avoid the rough water.

As it turned out, the water at Hell’s Gate itself was pretty flat, less than one foot waves, and the current was running with us. I was holding 5-6 MPH before Mill Rock, but my speed jumped to around 8 MPH at this point. I was quite happy, except that Glen kept pulling away instead of dropping back like I expected.

I finally drained my rear PolarPak and reached back to disconnect the hose. My arm cramped in this awkward position, but I was able to free it and had to use both hands to snap the hose into the matching 70 oz bag on the foredeck. This one had five of the recommended six scoops of Frost Gatorade, while in the back bag I used my usual four. In the end, I half drained this bag bringing my total Gatorade consumption to about 100 oz.

As I paddled past Roosevelt Island, I was 21.6 miles into the race after paddling for three hours. A large powerboat went by and I turned right to surf its wake and hit 21 MPH, as recorded on my Garmin 305. At the time I didn’t know how fast I went, but I felt too drained to sprint to really catch the wave. It rebounded off the sea wall and I turned left to surf it again.

I was approaching a bridge ahead and Glen was back to the right shoreline. Thinking the current must be against us, I tried to eddy behind a bridge abutment as I approached then took the shore side line behind Glen. Now I believe the current was working with us and I should have stayed more to the middle. I popped three more Sport Beans and slogged on. I maintained a pace between seven and eight MPH but again was feeling drained. I would have been happy to be done at that point.

The river took a sharp right and the wind hit us head on as we passed Brooklyn Bridge Park. We must have still been in a nice current because despite the wind, I was holding around eight MPH. I looked up and saw the Statue of Liberty. I recalled seeing it from the start point and felt hope return as I knew it couldn't be too much further. I came upon a double kayak, but the front paddler was not paddling. Just as I was approaching them, a Circle Line tour boat (two stories high, about 100 feet long) passed in front of them, confusing the seas. Another was coming in, because we were passing by their terminal. I found out later the bow paddler was hurting (probably bonked) and they were having rudder problems. I asked if they were OK and they said yes, so I continued on. I ate three more “magic beans,” and sipped some Accelerade. As we paddled towards Pier 17, I was hoping that was the southern-most point of the race and we would turn back up the Hudson, but I was wrong. We still had to go around the Battery.

The wind stayed strong (I heard 30 knots, but I would guess closer to 20) and the seas were confused 2.5 to 3 footers depending on the boat wakes. Several tour boats went by me, sending waves past me and past again from the other side as they rebounded off the sea wall. The only time I was scared at all was when I was passing the Staten Island Ferry. I heard loudspeaker calls from the huge ship making me believe they were preparing to pull out in front of me. Their props were still driving them into the terminal, creating a wash behind as I went by praying they would not head out. After slipping by, I made a fairly hard turn to the right back into the Hudson.

My speed was now down to 3-4 MPH in the confused seas and heavy wind. I saw a touring sea kayak being tossed around and I thought he must be exhausted (as I was). I then hit the same waves that had tossed him. They were only about two footers (shoulder height), but they were very steep and close, almost like somebody had squeezed the waters together. Rather than buck it like he did, I turned left and surfed them as best I could with my limited remaining strength. I reminded him we were almost done as I passed, watching Glen turn into the finish at the marina. A few minutes later, I was approaching the final turn and I heard cheering from the spectators - what a boost that always gives me. I could see Dave Biss standing by the finish as I paddled past.

Glen was climbing out of his boat and I congratulated him as I paddled to the dock. He surprised me the way he was able to keep plugging at a faster pace the entire second half of the race. I really have to give him credit for a great run.

Thankfully there were two guys who held the boat as I rolled out onto the dock. My right leg immediately cramped and one of the guys had to disconnect my hose from the front PolarPak as I was still connected to the boat. A woman draped a medal around my neck and helped me to my feet.

I picked up my paddle and followed my boat back to the prep area. As I took off my gear, I saw Greg Barton (already dry and changed). I asked if he won and he said Herman Chalupsky did. Greg got caught in a fishing line about 1000 feet before the finish and by the time he could clear the line (which caught his body, then his watch, then his head) Herman had an insurmountable lead. The once fastest man in a kayak, the best US sprinter, came in second by 48 seconds. Considering first place was $5000 and second was $1000, that was one expensive fishing line. I don't know if I could have paddled those seas on a V10 surfski.  Greg was able to keep his balance while stopped and removing the fishing line from his body, then head, then watch as it caught him three times - amazing balance just to stay upright in those conditions

I placed fourth in Fast Touring, 25th overall (including the drafter), completing a 28.9 mile paddle in 4:06:23. Fourth place earned a $200 cash prize which didn’t cover the costs of the race, but was a welcome surprise.

STATISTICS - I paddled almost 29 miles in 4:06:23. My split time was 1:55:39. The person who came in third (Glen Jabkowski) finished in 4:02:19 with a split of 1:55:29. My top speed was 21 MPH (mile 21.6, 3:01:52) next to Roosevelt Island. I think I was surfing a powerboat wake. The next highest speed was 20 MPH (mile 22.3, 3:06:36). Overall average speed: 7 MPH. My max heart rate was 175 BPM (mile 18.0). Minimum was 140 BPM at mile 25.8, probably when I stopped to eat something.

 

Of 21 Men’s Fast Touring, I was 4th:

NAME                        FINAL         BOAT               OVERALL
1. Craig Impens         3:55:38    Epic 18X              15
2. Steve Del Gaudio   3:59:04    Bushnell EFT        18
3. Glen Jabkowski      4:02:19    Kirton Anuk          21
4. Brian Blankinship    4:06:23    Epic 18X              25
5. Christian Barker     4:09:36    KayakPro Nemo    27
21.Chula Kim              5:29:12                              79

By Brian Blankinship

Editor's note: Full results can be found be found here. Some other interesting reads about the Mayor's Cup Race:

• Surfski.info's live coverage, with great pictures
• Cyndi's race report
• Greg Barton's race report

Tackling Transquaking's Trail, Surviving Salisbury's Century

I hadn't done the Salisbury Seagull Century in several years and, even though kayaking has seriously cut into my biking mileage in 2007, I decided this was the year to do it again. I managed to convince Carole and the MILFs (well, most of them) to come out and do the metric (65 mile) century ride. Since Carole's aunt has a condo in Ocean City, we managed to sneak out early and also work in some kayaking on the way out. Carole had already done Blackwater, so I decided we would check out the Transquaking River.

In order to do all this, I had to get two kayaks and two bikes onto my Ford Ranger. The Thule rack system is great for that, except that if I put two long kayaks on the kayak cradles with the rack in the low position there is a minor inconvenience - you can't open the doors. I could raise the racks to the high position, but then you have to lift the kayaks another two feet in the air. I manage to rope the Ookpik Carole is now paddling onto the truck bed and we were off.

About 120 miles later we reached Cambridge, MD and the Fishing Bay Wildlife Management Area, after passing by Carl's favorite airport/restaurant. The launch ramp was nearly deserted, except for one guy manning about 10 fishing poles, each with bells rigged at the tip - when a bell would go off, the guy would run to the pole with his fishing net, but never seemed to catch anything. It was gray and actually fairly cool, with not much wind - pretty good paddling weather.

From the launch point, the Transquaking River runs a loopy 4 mile course down to Fishing Bay. However, years ago they apparently dug a shortcut called "The Canal" that cuts across the marsh and allows you to paddle a 5.5 mile loop, which is what we did. Half a mile from the ramp you turn right at The Canal and see the lone tree among the marsh grasses. The scenery is actually pretty monotonous - you are just paddling along through the grasses and it all looks the same, except for that one solitary tree.

After about 1/2 mile The Canal ends and you are back on the Transquaking. We turned left to head upstream and loop around back to where we started and began to see herons and eagles and egrets. A crabbing boat came downstream and Carole got to experience her first big boat wake and handled it just fine.We passed by Chance and Guinea Islands, which were a break from the marsh grasses, and Carole managed to convince me to give her a tow for a while. We saw lots of small wooden structures that were either ATM machines, small Starbucks stores or bird shelters.

We were soon back at the launch point and back on our way to Ocean City. Unfortunately, Carole hadn't actually brought the actual key that opened the actual door to her aunt's condo, but after a few threats of being forced to hitchhike back home to get the key, she made contact with her aunt and the condo management place gave us keys. Ocean City had been invaded by restored cars - the main drag was clogged with GTOs, Mustangs, old Camaros, etc. Well, they were all restored except for their mufflers, since every car was letting out a deafening roar. After a good meal at The Blue Ox and a horrible movie (The Heartbreak Kid) it was off to bed.

By 0550 the next morning, Carole and I were out the door and made a quick breakfast stop at Bagels and Buns and then off to Salisbury. We parked at my secret spot and biked about .5 miles to the start at Salisbury University just as the ride got started at 0700. It was foggy and drizzly - and would stay that way until almost 1130, requiring me to periodical do the "finger windshield wiper" trick on my glasses. Carole went off to find the other Biker Chix to do the 65 mile ride, while I went off on my own to do the 100 mile century ride. This century ride is pretty much table top flat - the only hill is the bridge into and out of Assateague.

My goal was to finish in under 7 hours, which meant trying to keep my moving speed around 17 mph. That turned out to be a bit faster than many and a bit slower than many - for the first 50 miles or so I never latched on to any groups of cyclists. Mass rides like this one bring out the worst in cyclists, and not just the newbies, either - lots of $2,000 bikes with skinny tires were riding four or five abreast, passing without saying a word, and stopping without warning. But in general it was a very well behaved crowd - I didn't see any collisions or even many near misses.

I decided to skip the first rest stop at the 24 mile mark because, while Milburn Landing is a beautiful spot, getting in and out of the park is real slow, and I was feeling pretty strong anyway. I emulated a Tour de France rider, not by speed but by eating a granola bar as I rode along and was soon at the 42 mile rest stop. A short break to exchange some used Gatorade for some new and to down a bagel, and I was off for the rest stop at Assateague. The sky was starting to lighten and the fog was finally burning off. I latched onto a pace line that was doing 18-20 mph and stayed with them until the rest stop at 62 miles at Assateague. The food here was great - many different types of homemade breads, lots of Fig Neutrons and bananas and peanut butter.

I was really feeling strong after all that homemade bread and I started passing more and more riders - a few even latched on behind me for a draft, which is very unusual. We rode through the scenic downtown of Berlin and headed west towards the 82 mile rest stop at Adkins Pond. Once the sugar high from that bread burned off, I started to drag a bit - my longest day previously had been a 65 miler. Many of those I passed caught up just as we reached Adkins Pond and the famous home made pies - I had a huge slice o' apple pie, more figgy pudding and a ball of ice cream that was frozen as hard as a rock. The sun was out full force and it was getting hot now, with 20 more miles to go.

Leaving Adkins Pond, the route went into a slight headwind and I started feeling wimpy. However, a group of cyclists doing about 17 mph came by and I latched onto them. Just as we passed some policemen who said "Only 5 miles to go", the group slowed a bit and I decided to break away - I really cranked at about 20-21 mph and left them behind. I was surprised how much gas I still had left in the tank - I think I could have maintained a higher speed earlier on without bonking. A few of them caught me just at the finish back at the University, but I could have kept going.

I finished in about 6 hours and 45 minutes, with an average rolling speed of 16.4 mph.  There's a natural length to things (movies: 90 minutes/sitcoms: 30 minutes/prostate exams: never) and 6 hours on a bicycle seat exceeds that. But if you are going to do 100 miles on a bike, the Seagull Century is a great way to do it.

Paddling Parker, Chomping Crabs, Watching War

Another area that caught my eye as a paddling destination was Parker Creek in Calvert County, MD. The description in Savario and Nolan's "Sea Kayaking Maryland's Chesapeake Bay" made it sound really interesting. Carl and I hiked the American Chestnut Land Trust trails along Parker Creek last winter and it looked pretty cool - a broad valley with a narrow river winding through. The only downside was that the closest public launch point was 5 miles away, unless you went on one of the periodic guided paddles ACLT holds. They actually had one scheduled for September 22nd, but by the time I realized that, it was already full.

I was actually planning on biking that morning but it had rained overnight and the roads were pretty sloppy. I checked the tides and the wind on the Bay, and both were perfect  for doing the 5 mile paddle down the Bay to Parker Creek, so quick like a bunny I loaded up the kayak, spare paddle, float, pump, VHF radio, GPS etc. and headed down (after the traditional 7-11 coffee/muffin fueling stop) to Breezy Point Marina, a few miles south of Chesapeake Beach. The forecast was for winds out of the south at 5-10 knots, waves 1 foot or less, chance of fog and drizzle - and that is pretty much how it went. I had a headwind on the way out and a tailwind on the way back.

First the Googlefied map of the paddle, courtesy of Innersource:

Breezy Point Marina is right next to Breezy Point Park but the park had a big sign "No Boats Allowed," so I paid the $10 launch fee at the marina. The park was mostly filled with humongous motor homes - I guess if you have one of those, parking at a beach-side park is a cheap way to have a waterfront home. After about a 1/4 mile paddle out of the marina through a channel I was out on the Bay. I turned right and headed south with about 1 foot waves hitting the front left of the boat (port bow mizzenmast for you nautical folks). Occasionally there would be some bigger waves but in general it was just steady one footers, though the cliffs seem to reflect waves so there were stretches of pretty confused water. I don't get a lot of practice in open water so this was perfect - enough wave action to have to deal with it but not that much outside of my comfort zone.

The 5.5 mile paddle down to Parker Creek went pretty quickly under overcast skies, with the cliffs and some really nice houses (perilously close to falling into the Bay) on my right and the wide open Bay on my left. I stayed about 150 yards offshore and there was very little boat traffic at 9am when I started out. Every few minutes I'd hear a skittering sound, like something was creeping through leaves behind me, and I'd look around and see a fish boil where lots of little fish were jumping the surface to escape some big fish underneath. A few crab boats were working their pots but didn't seem to be catching much. The only sounds were the waves on the shore and the paddle going in and out of the water - and the occasional grunt of the paddler.

I did 4.5 miles the first hour and a mile later was at the point where Parker Creek empties into the Bay. The actual creek opening is only about 20 feet wide and behind a sand bar, and it was an incoming tide. Getting onto the creek involved finding  the very narrow channel  with a strong current at my back. I ran aground once and had to spin around and try again to navigate the s-shaped opening. One last swerve around a downed tree and over a final sandbar and I was on the creek.

Parker Creek is very curvy, with lots of 180 degree turns - I got a lot of practice edging and sweeping. I chased the obligatory heron upstream, saw an immature bald eagle (who probably thought that a grown man paddling a kayak instead of being at home fixing his lawn tractor so he could mow his overgrown lawn was pretty immature, too) and then a very large bald eagle. Other than that, not much wildlife. I think ospreys have moved on, and no snakes or beavers or anything else was out. Every mile or so there were some kind of platforms with triangular nets on a cable pulley system - they looked like some sort of bird shelter, but there was nothing in them.

Given our drought-like conditions, the creek got pretty shallow slightly less than 1.75  miles upstream. I began to see slightly submerged logs and began to worry about hitting something and dumping. I reached a point where the creek broadened out and straightened, and noticed that every paddle stroke was raising a cloud of black mud because the water was barely a foot deep. I knew from hiking that a bit further up I would reach the remains of an old bridge site and a spot where I might be able to get out without fighting the mud, but I decided to just turn around and head back out. The second hour of paddling I only made 3.5 miles, as navigating the creek was definitely low speed. Parker Creek is actually probably a better place to canoe than to kayak, given the shallow water, slow speed and tall surrounding grasses - sitting up a bit higher would have been good, too.

About 3/4 of the way out I ran into the scheduled ACLT guided tour group on their way in, about a dozen folks mostly in canoes. They were surprised to see me, as the lack of public launch places keeps down the kayak visitors. I was going to beach the kayak when I reached the Bay and stretch my legs but I decided to just push on since I wasn't feeling tired at all. A lot more boat traffic on the way back, so in addition to the wind at the rear right quarter (aft starboard poop deck) I had a lot more wakes to deal with. The wind was still only in the 10 mph range, so the skeg on the Capella was all I needed to stay relatively straight.

The sun had come out by now and it was just a glorious day to be out on the Bay. At the three hour mark I had done 12.1 miles and had a great view of the houses on Dare's Beach - it really looks like one big storm would wipe out most of them. Three miles later I was back at the entrance to Breezy Point, where I was able to surf some swells into the channel. Fifteen miles and 3:20 in the cockpit without getting out is my new record, I think - it felt good to do my patented reverse paddle float dock dismount at the launch ramp dock and get out and slowly evolve to being a standing human being again.

Since I was half-way to their Drum Point house, I called Chris and June and it turned out Chris' mom and dad were visiting, and since I hadn't seen them for years I drove down to say hey - and got there just in time to pick a few crabs for lunch (crabbing is not so hot in the Solomon's area - Chris had to admit he bought them from Mel's Crabs). Chris, his dad and I then took a boat ride up the Patuxent to a park just south of Broome's Island where a reenactment of some battle from the War of 1812 was going on. It was a nice ride but watching how we waged war in the old days always reminds me of how much more efficient we now are at killing each other - it wasn't "Saving Private Ryan" by a long shot.

Three guys in red uniforms would walk forward a few yards, shoot a few times, walk back a few yards. A drum and fife gang would tootle a few tunes and a guy with a flag would march forward, then a cannon would go off and some guys in row boats would go get some more guys in red uniforms. I imagined how awful it would be to be a kid whose father was into these reenactments and who dragged to you to one every weekend. I dunno: the War of 1812 isn't really one of your top 10 wars, maybe others are more exciting.

There is no such thing as a bad day when you spend most of the day on salt water and my timing was such that by the time I got home it was too late to tackle the tractor or the lawn - even better.