Cybersecurity Newsbites: Be Careful Out There

Weathering Wye's Wacky Windy Wallop

When I first got interesting in kayaking last fall, one of the first kayaking events I came across as I obsessively researched local kayaking on the web was The Wye Island Regatta. For some reason this really captured my imagination and became my goal for 2007: get skilled enough in paddling to be able to at least complete, if not really compete in, the 12.5 mile race. I'd done some hiking around the Wye area but never been on the water there - I don't know Wye it intrigued me so much, but it did.

So, back in March I attempted to make the circumnavigation, to mixed results . Then I did manage a full paddle around the island and a few months later even managed to go around twice. The weather each time was phenomenal, the paddling was fun and I was raring to do the race. September 15th was the official day of the race and the weatherpeople predicted cool temperatures as a high pressure system moved in and forced a cold front through. But, just as in life, it is always the back of the front that you have to worry about.

Going over the Bay Bridge at about 0700, the Bay looked pretty smooth, just light ripples but it was still cloudy - the front of the front hadn't even hit yet. I arrived at the Wye Landing start area at about 0745 (after filling up on some of that cheap Kent Island gasoline and the traditional coffee/muffin hi-tech pre-paddle fuel) and there were an impressive array of boats there, ranging from 40 foot long 8 person scull/crew/whatever you call 'em boats to gossamer weight skin-on-frame single scull/crew/whatever you call 'em boats to the usual array of kayaks. The talk was all about the weather and lots of VHF radios were tuned to the weather frequencies -  20-25 mph winds and small craft warnings were predicted for "late morning into the afternoon." Since kayaks would launch at 0945 and generally be done by 1230, it looked like it would be close.

Susan from Pennsylvania was there planning on doing the race with a friend in a tippy tandem surfski - they were really worshiping at the VHF weather radio. At the 0815 race meeting, the organizers (who had to worry about more than the early launchers like the kayakers) decided to shorten the race from a counterclockwise 12.5 mile race around Wye Island, to a 7.25 mile out and back starting from the usual race finish and staying on the most protected side of the course. This was disappointing, but a smart decision - by 0900 the back of the front arrived and heavy winds out of the northwest began to rattle the trees. I think a lot of people decided not to launch at that point. Others (like Pennsylvania Susan) did launch but quickly turned back.

But the usual CPA racers (Bill, Brian, Charlie, Cyndi, Dave, Kristina, Stephen, etc.)were there and we all did launch, along with Holm and Melissa, and a friend, who represented the creme de la creme of speedy kayakers. As we launched and paddled the 1/2 mile to the starting point (which was usually the finish line) we passed the alleged llama/emu/Merino/gnus that Susan claims are just plain old sheep and it was obvious the conditions would be challenging - it would change from just breezy to 20+ mph gusts in an instant. Since my Epic wing paddle had not shipped yet, I borrowed a wing paddle from Brian and used this .5 mile stretch to get used to using a wing again. Charlie's rudder hadn't come all the way down, so we were going to raft up so I could pull it down but the wake from a passing crabber boat did the job for him - or so he thought.

At the starting line we tried to get the starters to let us do a mass start but they insisted on one by one kayak starts so that they could write down numbers and starting times individually. Everyone was waiting for Holm to catch up (I guess no one gets to say that very often) but I said "you guys are all going to pass me and my wimpy boat quickly anyway, I'll start now" so off I went. The wind wasn't that bad at the start, as the SE corner of the island is by far the most protected. One by one the faster CPA folks passed me by - but no Charlie, giving me false hope that I was staying ahead of him. Turns out one of his rudder cables went out and he could only turn left, so he paddled in circles for a while and abandoned right at the start.

Stephen passed me in his brand new Don Knott-leisure-suit green 20 lb, 6 inch wide, helium filled boat (when it was sitting on the shore a wind gust actually blew it over), looking a bit tentative but still moving forward at a high rate of speed through the gusts. Pretty soon I was by myself, and I went by a few recreational kayakers as the big winds hit - had to be 25 mph gusts. It was like the water turned to oatmeal - the boat just seemed to stop moving. For the first open stretch,  it was mostly a head on wind - it was slow but I was still moving forward. I seem to be addicted to hyphenated clauses - I wonder why?

That changed as soon as the river made a turn to the south and hit an open area. Now the wind gusts were on the beam and I really learned why a rudder would be a nice thing to have. The Capella's skeg definitely helped, but every big gust would cause it to take a jump to the upwind side and I'd have to lean and sweep to get aimed back in the right direction - and my sweep stroke still is pretty pitiful on a wing paddle. This was about 2-3 miles in and all the kayaks and canoes started veering back and forth - just at the time the early launched single scullers started coming back on the return. Having the race be an out and back had the advantage of getting to see the faster boats coming back but the wind made it pretty comical as no one could stay out of anyone else's way.

It was really funny when the big winds hit at the last stretch before the turn around buoy at about the 3.6 mph point. I had just pulled even with a 4 person canoe and was trying to pass them when the wind kicked up, the water turned into wet cement and the canoe started heading right at me. It was a big canoe and I really didn't feel like getting t-boned by it, so I somehow did the best buoy down wind turn of my life and managed to escape them.

For the next mile or so I pretty much just canoe paddled on the upwind side to try to go straight and a number of kayaks with rudders passed me. I didn't mind when Kristina passed me in her Epic 18 or Bill in his fast boat, but seeing other plastic boats that were only a foot or so longer than mine do so kind of got my adrenalin going. I started just sort of full time edging and paddling faster and began to catch up to them when ahead of me I observed a very strange sight.

It appeared to be Cyndi in her Nemo veering back and forth across the river, seeming to be either investigating the shores or trying to surf waves. I thought she had finished the race and then come back a few miles and was just playing in the waves. As I got closer, I noticed her rudder was up and I thought "Man, she is really showing off." Turns out it was a bad rudder day overall - she had popped a cable on the Nemo's rudder and the wind kept forcing her to the left, so she would over-correct to the right and gradually get forced to point upwind again, repeat.

Just about then the 4 person sculls starting showing up behind us and through the wind I could vaguely hear them yelling something about "yellow kayak" but since I already knew my kayak was yellow, I just ignored them and they seemed to figure out how to go around me. We made a slight turn to the north and were back in the relatively sheltered area, with the finish line in sight about .5 miles away. I was finally able to just try to paddle as hard as I could without having to steer and I just tried to swing faster, pull harder and rotate more. I managed to finally get ahead of the the other two kayaks and finished the 7.25 miles in 1:31 according to my GPS.

That works out to a 4.8 mph average which I guess was OK for the conditions. When you look at the speed profile from my (CArole's) Dick Tracy GPS watch thingie, you can see at the 3.6 mile turn around point, my speed dropped like a rock and didn't comeback for over a mile. That sort of suprised me but that was when the wind was on the rear beam and kept turning me upwind. I thought I'd be slower fighting the headwind but I guess the pushing effect of the tail wind was much less effective than the turning effect and the fact that almost all my paddling was going into turning the boat downwind, not moving it forward. Okie doke - the next boat will have a rudder, I give.

While my GPS said I finished in 1:31, unfortunately, the official results say I finished in 1:57, which would be a miserable 3.7 mph and can't be right. I emailed the head Regatteer and they are reviewing and modifying the results so maybe it will get changed. They responded that they will honor my GPS time of 1:31:42, though I said they could add anything to that they want to just to be fair - but I know it wasn't 1:57.

While I would rather have had conditions be good enough to have the full race around the island to see what my overall average speed could have been, I actually had a blast. The wind was a huge issue but mainly for steering, not for stability - the waves never got very big as Wye is still a pretty sheltered area where we paddled. I probably instinctively braced a few times because of doing so much leaning/edging but I don't think I ever came close to going swimming. I don't get the chance to paddle in rougher conditions very often, so it was a lot of fun fighting the wind for those 7 miles.

At the shore Dave Biss helped me out of the water and I still hadn't realized Cyndi hadn't made it back yet. When she did reach the take out, she used some nasty words that would get her FCC fines if she was on the radio. We all shared war stories for a while and packed up and drove home. Going back over the Bay Bridge at about 1pm it looked like about 3-4 foot whitecaps on the Eastern side of the bay - big winds still. Amazing how about 45 miles of practice paddling on the Wye was done on basically flat water and the day of the race it turns into a wind tunnel! I guess you really can't fool Mother Nature.

Here's an attempt at embedding the Google map and track into this site - never seems to work twice:

The Triumph of Duty Over Cynicism

I dunno why, but I always find rescue stories inspiring - especially when they are about volunteers saving stupid people. CNN has a video of some firefighters rescuing some folks from a kayak who got trapped under a bridge as the water rose. One of the rescuers actually got trapped under the bridge and was embarrassed when they pulled him out - you can hear them ribbing him  here.

 

There is all kinds of heroism done daily when firefighters rescue people from burning buildings or police save kids lives or the military fight the bad guys, but there is really something special to me about dedicated volunteers risking their lives to fight Darwin's law and rescue people from their own stupid mistakes.  I know a lot of people who were pretty idealistic in college and one year of dealing with real people in the real world brought a quick end to that. My hat's off to those EMTs and firefighters and the like who can still risk their lives to go after the 26th person who goes surfing in the hurricane or kayaking in the flood.

Once Is Not Enough - Until You Are Halfway Around Wye Island On That Second Lap and You Realize Once Would Have Been Just Fine

If you had just watched a great movie, would you gulp some soda, down some Raisinets and immediately sit down to watch it again? If you has just read a great book, would you get up, sip some wine, nibble some cheese and then go back to page 1 to read it all over again? If you had just had an incredible love making experience, would you... Wait, scratch that one - that example is not going to help my thesis. If you had stuffed yourself into a small kayak cockpit and swung a seven-foot long paddle back and forth for two and a half hours, would you glug some Gatorade, stuff down a sandwich and immediately get back in the kayak to do the 13 miles all over again??

Survey Says: Apparently, four out of six kayakers would do just that.

On Sunday, Cyndi, Susan, Brian, Charlie, Stephen and I did a Wye Island Practice Paddle in advance of the Wye Island Regatta race coming up in September - and because Wye Island is just a beautiful area to paddle. The weather gods cooperated in a big way - the day before had been 97 degrees and high humidity, but a friendly cold front had come through on Saturday night (bringing some awesome thunderstorms, which first delayed and then canceled the Redskin's game that night), dropped both the temperature and the humidity and left behind some nice overcast to cut the sun's heat a bit. The temperature would barely get above 80 for our entire looong time on the water.

I left my house at about 0600, fueled up with the traditional 7-11 coffee and a muffin, and by 0700 I was on the Bay Bridge watching a blood red sun trying to burn a hole through the wispy clouds on the eastern horizon. There was a light breeze out of the north, and a little bit of ripple on the Bay as I went over it, but the water was pretty smooth. As I turned off of Rt. 50 onto the small road that leads to Wye Landing, I began to see lots of branches and leaves in the road, evidence that the storms had hit the Eastern Shore pretty hard the night before. I was sort of on mental cruise control, obeying the spirit of the speed limits if not quite exactly the letter of the law, when I came flying around a curve to find a tree had fallen across the road - I managed to squeeze by on the left with one wheel off the road and only collected a few leaves on the kayak cradles and ropes on the right side of my truck as I scraped by the downed tree.

I got to the Wye Landing ramp at about 0730 and was the first one there. Well, the first kayaker - the parking spots were completely full with pickup trucks and trailers. I guess 0730 is actually pretty late for fisherpeople and crabbers. In short order, Brian and Cyndi, Stephen, Susan and a surprise paddler (Charlie) showed up and we all started off-loading boats and gear. We were on the water by about 0810.

As we headed counter-clockwise around the island, it pretty much sorted out like one of the CPA races - Brian in his surfski and Stephen and Charlie in their skinny wooden boats, Cyndi right behind them in her dayglo Nemo, and then everyone else bringing up the rear. In this case, everyone else was was Susan and me. Susan was in her surfski but had her paddling throttle set for the pace she will use in the upcoming 90 mile Adirondack Classic, so she and I told everyone else they could go ahead at their pace since she and I were paddling at similar speeds. In a flash Brian and Charlie were gone - once we were under the Wye bridge they scooted away while Cyndi and Stephen would periodically circle back.

Two things had occurred the day before: (1) I had taken a two hour stroke lesson from Brian down at Fountainhead Park on the Occoquan, including learning to use a wing paddle which Brian loaned me; and (2) I had kinked my skeg cable after launching when some pebbles jammed into the skeg housing. So, for the Wye paddle I was using a wing paddle for only the second time and I was going without the skeg, which didn't matter too much because there was almost no wind.  The first three or so miles I was just working on my stroke and rotation and swinging the paddle out vs. trying to draw it along the sides of the boat.

As I got used to using the wing paddle, my speed started to go up and I gradually pulled ahead of Susan. Her paddling stroke is like a metronome - I doubt her cadence varied more than .1% the entire time. I got the feeling she could turn around to get something out of her rear hatch and her arms and paddle would stay in the same position moving at the same speed while the rest of her rummaged around the back.

At the six mile mark I slowed to hook back up with Susan. This section is more exposed to the Bay and wind and I began to miss the skeg. Sweeping the paddle wide meant I wasn't able to go as straight as easily and the wind was at my back, meaning the kayak kept wanting to turn and sniff the wind. It was a bit more work to keep edging and make correcting strokes to go straight but I guess that was good practice.

Susan and I chatted as we made the turn around Bordley Point - the spot where a previous navigational brain fart had led Susan and a paddling partner off on a famous 35 mile detour. Stephen and Cyndi had stopped to take a break on a sandy beach, so we caught up with them here. I rafted up with Cyndi for a bit and managed to get the skeg down - that made life a good deal easier. Boat traffic was pretty light, the temperature was still low, just enough breeze (most of the time) to have a cooling effect - the remaining miles back to the launch ramp were really pleasant, including a bald eagle sighting. The bald eagle flew the same exact arc in the same exact area (suspiciously near the Pickering Creek Environmental center) where I had seen it on previous trips to Wye - I'm beginning to think it is really some kind of remotely piloted drone bird. There was a lot of tree trash in the water, more storm evidence.

Back at Wye Landing, we all snacked and drank (called "hydrating" these days, eating is probably "solidating") while Charlie and Stephen sensibly loaded their boats on top of their cars and headed home. Not so sensibly, Brian and I succumbed to female peer pressure to do a second loop - Cyndi wanted to get mileage in as part of training for the Manhattan circumnavigation she will be doing at the Mayor's Cup in October, and for Susan the first 13 miles had just been a warm-up anyway, as she soon plans to paddle the entire length of every possibly navigable body of water, non-stop, with just a few portage breaks.

The second lap was at a more relaxed pace - well, for Cyndi and Brian anyway. Susan's metronome clicked on at the same rate as the first 13 miles and I was pretty much pushing the Capella at about the same speed as the first lap, too. There was a lot more boat traffic, so more wakes to deal with but the wind was very light and some clouds kept it cool most of the time. At the halfway point at Drum Point, Cyndi and Brian stopped to stretch while Susan and I continued along knowing the two speedsters would easily catch back up to us. We chatted about balance in boats. I'm genetically deficient in balance - I've never been able to do skateboards or slalom water skiing or even be any good at snow skiing. Trying one of Brian's surfski's the day before had reduced me to pure "fear of falling in" paddling - and that was at glassy smooth Fountainhead. Susan noted that she had never done gymnastics as a girl and had to work really hard to build up balancing skills as she moved to faster and faster (and tippier and tippier) boats - while others could just hop on a baseball bat in the water and stay upright.

At about the 22 mile mark I hit the point where my body had decided this was a really stupid idea and was trying to convince my brain to stop ordering my arms to swing back and forth. I started looking at the power boats going by and realizing what a seriously backward step in evolution it was to eschew motors and propellers when you wanted to move forward in  water. Cyndi was behind me at this point and helpfully commented on how crappy my stroke looked compared to earlier in the day. We passed people in a moored cabin cruiser who offered us a beer - if we made one more lap around the island, which seemed pretty funny to them, anyway. Brian chased after another powerboat and actually managed to surf its wake for a bit, probably expending 500 calories to save 5, but it was an impressive spurt.

We saw the obligatory herons and the animatronic bald eagle again, and then finally the boat house appeared that signals the end of the Wye River race - but since this wasn't the race, we still had to paddle another .5 miles to get to the launch ramp. One of the estates along this final stretch had a flock of brown woolly quadrupeds grazing in a field, and we debated what they were: sheep, llamas, emus, alpacas, push-me-pull-yous? Brian once again succumbed to peer pressure and scooted over to the shore to see what they were, but the glint in his eye after 26 miles of paddling made the woolly creatures think he had other things in mind and they nervously rambled away.

Susan lobbied for a third (and fourth and fifth) lap as we neared the ramp but I said if the Greeks had kayaks, they would have gotten out now - a 26 mile marathon was enough. I could feel every mile in my back and shoulders - lifting the boat onto the truck rack was not quite as easy as usual. The weather gods must have nudged the traffic gods - there was just a bit of traffic on Rt. 50 in Wye but it cleared away and the Bay Bridge was trouble free. Normally, I'd be thinking of getting home, putting the boat away and assuming the horizontal position, but we were having hordes of my wife's relatives over to celebrate her uncle's 86th birthday. So, instead I spent a few quality hours in front of the barbecue grill grimacing every time I twisted to the right or the left to flip the chicken/beef/shrimp deals.

Great fun - 26 miles is almost twice as far as I had ever done in a day before and today I actually don't feel as bad as I had feared. Paddling with faster/better paddlers in faster/better boats is always humbling, but a great way to learn. The GPS said 4.6 mph average over the 26 miles, which would work out to about 2:41 for the 12.5 mile Wye course. My goal is to try to be under 2.30 for the race - and then to get out of the boat and not listen to anyone who wants to go around just one more time...

Summary GPS data here.

Just Some Random Kayaking Pictures

Hmmm, this is a boat picture but not a kayak picture - it is actually more of a bicycling picture. This is the modern day version of the John Smith shallop during its stay in Annapolis, MD. Carl and I had biked the B&A Trail from Earleigh Heights into downtown Annapolis and as part of the 400th anniversary of John Smith's voyage the shallop was traveling up the Chesapeake Bay and just happened to be in Annapolis. Ego Alley never looked so good.

The second Chesapeake Paddlers Association race of 2007 was held at Wicomico Shores Park in Chaptico, VA. This is a shot of some of the kayaks lined up on shore after the race - that's my yellow P&H Capella in the foreground blocking the view of one of the gourgeous wooden boats.

 

A broader shot of the Wicomico River and the fishing pier at Wicomico Shores. To the left the river heads to the Potomac, to the right you head towards Allen's Fresh Run.

 

One downside of using a wimpy camera (like the Digital Hero 3 that I use) is not having a zoom. This is on the Potomac River, where I had paddled from Jack's Boathouse in Georgetown upstream to Little Falls. On the way back a boat had anchored and had a small raft floating tethered behind it. On the raft was a golden retriever, while its owner sat in the boat and read the newspaper. I find it hard to believe the dog somehow requested to be put on the raft, so it was either being punished or being use as bait to attack the famous Potomac shark.

Broadkilll 2007: Driving 240 Miles to Paddle 10 - Sorry, Mr. Gore

Saturday was the Broadkill River Race, 10 miles from Lewes, Delaware to Milton, DE. I had never done this race before, or been to Milton, so off to Internet mapping sites to find the route from Ashton, MD to the starting point on Oyster Rocks Road. It took a while to actually find a mapping site that knew about Oyster Rocks Road, but finally one of them said it was 120 miles and would take two hours and forty minutes. That seemed a bit pessimistic, even though much of the route was on Rt. 404, a one lane road that goes through many small towns with 25 mph speed limits. To play it safe, I left at 0600 (after the traditional 7-11 coffee and a muffin stop) and ended up reaching the starting point at 0800 - I tend to drive faster (but always obeying all posted speed limits (in spirit) than most mapping sites seem to assume.

The race start was where Oyster Rocks Road dead ends at the Broadkill River, not a very impressive place - pretty much just a small gravel area surrounded by muddy, goopy banks with two port-a-potties. One of the port-a-potties had apprarently previously been used by Jabba the Hutt, or perhaps the entire University of Delaware football team after a very bad Mexican dinner. The race people gave out water and  very nice t-shirts but there wasn't a drop of shade. The prospect of standing around for two hours (the race didn't start until 10am) wasn't very appealing. However, a nice local guy offered me the chance to follow his car up to the finish area, leave my truck there, and then have his brother-in-law drive us back to the starting point. That solved the shuttle problem and got me out of the sun for a while - it worked out great.

The variety of boats was pretty impressive. There were probably a dozen racing boats (including Neil the outrigger canoe guy), a couple of dozen long composite sea kayaks, and then pretty much every type of plastic kayak you could imagine. Some of them looked like someone had powered up their Vac-u-form  and made them the night before. The usual CPA racers were there: Cyndi in her dayglo Nemo, Charlie and Stephen in their wooden boats, Bill in his Epic 18x. I saw a few other P&H Capellas, so I would be able to see how I compared to others paddling the same boat.

At 0945 Bill and I helped each other carry our boats down past the goop to the water and the river started to fill up with kayaks. Single kayaks would start first, followed by two person kayaks, then single canoes, then tandem canoes. It wasn't real obvious where the starting line was, so the 70 or so single kayaks were spread out over about 100 feet of the river. When the starting person got on the bullhorn and said "Everyone has to line up behind me" it lead to a lot of backing up and turning of kayaks being done by many people not real familiar with backing up or turning kayaks - the river was filled with the sound of plastic bumping into plastic, many "Sorry!"s and then, 10 seconds before the start, one guy splashing into the water. He seemed to have a friend with him (or at least that is what everyone else decided to assume) to help him back in, so at the starting gun (or yelp) we were off. It looks like the guy who fell in abandoned the race, so now I feel kinda bad that none of us stopped to help him.

I've only done a few races before, and never one with more than 20 or so boats - seeing 70 start off at once was pretty interesting, much the way watching parents on December 23rd rushing through the doors when Toys-r-Us opens up in the morning is interesting. It actually seemed to go pretty well, considering, and I was up in the front third of the pack at the start. Within the first mile the race pretty much sorted out to almost the exact same segmentation I'd seen at the three CPA races : men in racing boats, Cyndi, longer composite sea kayaks and then everyone else.

The timing of the start was pretty good - the tide had pretty much just turned from dead low to an incoming tide. That meant the very curvy river had some very shallow spots at the turns but it also meant we had a favorable current. When the race sorted out, I was in a pack of about 4 or 5 boats a few hundred feet behind Cyndi and a red haired guy on a tiny little sit-on-top. Cyndi seemed to be zigging and zagging back and forth - either she was having rudder problems, was trying to shake some one drafting her, or she just decided to paddle further since there wasn't much female competition.

Since I had never paddled the course before, I decided to just stick to the middle of the river. The pack I was in quickly narrowed down to just three of us: me and two guys in longer composite kayaks, neither with wing paddles. They moved ahead of me, so I decided to try to do some drafting but they were really swerving a lot to cut the corners and I decided I'd rather stay in the deeper water - without a rudder it was just too much work to keep following behind them. Slowly, Cyndi and the sit-on-top guy pulled out of sight and by the time we neared the US 1 bridge they were pretty much gone completely except for the rare segment where the river was straight.

About three miles in (actually, I have no idea how far in, since I kept hitting the wrong button on my Forerunner Dick Tracy GPS watch thingy and only had a speed readout, no mileage) I noticed I had a bow wave, but only on the right side of my kayak. I was keeping up a pretty good speed, in the 5.8 - 6.0 mph range for stretches, but not that fast - it turned out that they had taped my race number on too low and it was catching the water and throwing a wave over the right side (OK, matey - the starboard side). For a mile or so I stared at it trying to decide if it was actually slowing me down, or was it just a psychological thing. I was tempted to reach forward with my paddle to knock the number off, but figured it would be pretty embarrassing to fall in. I convinced myself it wasn't really slowing me down and paddled on - but just then the guy behind me caught up and said "Hey, your number is acting like a sea anchor - want me to pull it off?" Not wanting to slow him down, I said no - but a few turns later he caught up again and offered again. I took him up on it this time and lo and behold - it did seem easier to paddle. If nothing else, it was much quieter without all that water splashing over the front bow.

I thanked him and then sort of rudely pulled away. I think the nice guy was Vince Lewonski, who I've read about in Susan Williams kayaking blog . Thanks, Vince! Without my sea anchor, I slowly caught the other guy in our triad and passed him. He was paddling a really nice looking sea kayak but I couldn't quite see what type - a Millennium maybe? I settled into trying to keep the speedometer above 5.3 mph but since I had no odometer or timer, I really had no idea how far we were from the finish and didn't want to push it too hard in the heat and burn out before the finish. They had a guy in a boat offering water but when I asked him what mile maker he represented, he had no idea. Somewhere around here the teenage "Todd boys" passed me by - they were calmly paddling with their knees up by their chins, sucking on Camelbaks as they went flying by.

The river is pretty isolated and we went by a number of sunken wharfs and other ruins for a while, then a marina or two, then some houses - one with a traffic light hanging on their dock, but luckily it wasn't red so I just kept paddling. It was hot out, in the 90s and very humid - I reached the point in a ten mile paddle where you just want it to be over. Somewhere after this, the other guy passed me and I made the mistake of letting him get 50 feet or so ahead of me. I still wasn't sure how close we were to the finish, and figured I'd see the Milton water tower or hear noise from the festival at the finish when it was close enough to push it - wrong.

We passed a "No wakes" sign and I figured we were close (or they just had very informal funerals in the Milton area), so I started to push it a bit but didn't close on the other guy at all. Then we turned a corner and there was the finish maybe 100 yards away. I tried to sprint and I made up a few feet but ended up finishing about 15 seconds behind Jeff Pringle, according to the race results, with a time of 1 hour 40 minutes. I think someone said the distance was 9.6 miles, which works out to a 5.76 mph average, a good deal faster than I've ever done over 10 miles. That time was definitely aided by the current, but someone did say I was the first plastic boat in. I don't know if that was true - the sit on top guy was in a plastic boat - but I felt good about my time. If I'd been a bit smarter with tactics I might have been able to come in one place higher ( I was 14th out of 70 in single kayak), so maybe next year.

The town of Milton was having a festival at the finish area, and a shaved ice really tasted good in the heat. I took a quick walk through the festival, but it was more a family oriented kind of thing, and the food was of the county fair variety: fried dough and hot dogs after a 10 mile paddle in the 90 degree heat weren't all that tempting. I was looking for Eastern Shore tomatoes, watermelon, crabs, lopes - never saw any.  There was an Irish pub across the street that many of the CPAers were going to but I had to get home. I gave Bill Woodruff a ride back to his car at the start and headed back - and hit a 6 mile backup on Kent Island due to an accident that had the westbound Bay Bridge down to three lanes.

All in all, a lot of fun. This was the first race I've done where I was actually racing anyone, vs. basically paddling alone for the entire race. A beautiful river, a nice ending spot and a lot of fun people made it one I'm definitely planning on doing next year. Next is the Wye Island Regatta , a 12-miler that should have some rougher water, too.

Paddlin' Round the Neck O' the Bay

Saturday July 28 was a Chesapeake Paddlers Association group paddle around Eastern Neck Island near Rock Hall, MD. It was organized (very well organized) by Marshall Woodruff and about 25 kayakers were on the paddle. Many had camped the previous night nearby, but my wife had just graduated from her degree program and we had a party the night before, so I drove out early that morning. I was surprised to find no traffic on the Bay Bridge - I thought Saturday morning was the new Friday evening, as far as "going down the Shore" traffic went, but apparently not. I even arrived a bit early and had time for a cup of coffee at the Java Rock in Rock Hall's happenin' little downtown.

Since I left my camera in my truck, the pictures are courtesy of Manuel and Ed - you can see Manuel's full album of the Eastern Neck Paddle hither and Ed Hershon's pictures are yon and Kim Palmer's over here.  After a short talk by a park ranger about the history and features of Eastern Neck Island, and a short safety check/float briefing by Marshall, we were off by about 0930 onto glassy calm seas on the Chester River side - much different conditions than on my previous attempt at circumnavigating Eastern Neck It was already pretty warm, 80 degrees or so and really humid, with just a slight breeze coming out of the south. At the previous week's practice paddle around Kent Island there had apparently been a lot of dehydration, so Marshall reiterated the "drink a lot" mantra. I had a 72 ounce Camelbak on the front deck and a half gallon of iced tea in the hatch so I was in good shape.

It was interesting to see that many kayaks out on the water at one time - we looked like a rainbow-colored, floppy hat-wearing third world invasion fleet. Yellow kayaks dominated, and luckily there was only one shark bait kayak out there - a red Carolina. We headed downstream on the Chester River for a clockwise circumnavigation of the island with very little other boat traffic on the river. The pace was a tad slower than what you see at the CPA races - closer to 3 mph than 5 mph, but there was lots to look at that merited a slower pace. As we turned the southeast corner of the Island, the breeze picked up a bit and the wakes from the large boats heading across the channel near Kent Island  gave the water a little bit of action. We stopped for a brief rest stop at a beach behind the one of the rip-rap breakwaters placed around the Island to slow erosion. You could see the Kent Narrows Bridge, and the top of the towers of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, across the way to the south. There were a lot of sailboats out on the Bay, but they didn't have much breeze to work with. Over the VHF radios we heard a lot of powerboats reporting on their "poker run." Some explained what this is but I couldn't follow it - something to do with cards and boats and probably beer.

We continued along and turned north around the southwest corner of the island and picked up a slight tailwind and some more waves. Marshall commented that the pace was faster than previous trips and we made it to a lunch stop just southwest of the Eastern Neck bridge a bit early. The array of boats on the beach showed that Current Designs definitely has market share with CPAers, with Necky and Wilderness Systems taking silver and bronze. Mine appeared to be the only P&H boat and there was one brand new QCC and a "stealth" Valley boat that Manuel was paddling - all the decals had worn off. The total amount of stuff carried by 25 kayakers - either stowed in hatches or hanging from deck rigging - is pretty amazing. About the only things I didn't see were a candelabra or an electric carving knife.

Great place to stop, with nice shade and plenty of driftwood to sit on - though one enterprising paddler unpacked a folding chair and sprawled out. There was no poison oak/sumac/ivy that I could see along the shore, but I stayed away from the paths leading inland. The water was pretty rife with jellyfish (no rolling or practicing of wet rescues) but near the shore was clear. The water was very shallow for a good 100 feet from the beach and we watched:

1. A very slow row boater - basically a skinny Ollie looking guy slowly rowing a hefty Stan looking guy across the inlet.
2. A family wading along with dip nets and an inner tube carrying a bushel. I assume they were scooping up crabs but all we saw were dead baby crabs on the shore and the water was pretty opaque - I don't know how they could see anything.
3. What appeared to be an amphibious ultra light, or maybe a flying kayak, putting along about 50 feet above the water.

After an enjoyable lunch, Marshall suggested we try to replicate a picture he had seen on a Sea Kayaker magazine cover by circling our kayaks near the bridge while Manuel climbed onto the bridge to take the picture. Now, CPAers may be very experienced paddlers, but the June Taylor dancers they are not - it wasn't pretty. Some ambitious, and artistic, paddlers tried to get all the yellow kayaks to spread out and mix with the red and blue kayaks to replicate the color wheel, but that that quickly went by the wayside. We never really did make a circle, but if you look at the picture just right it does appear that we formed the head of an egret... Plus, there was a fairly swift current pulling us into the bridge - the pack breaking up and trying to avoid getting pinned against the bridge pilings was even uglier. But no teeth were lost, and no kayaks were dumped, in the making of this picture - it was a miracle.

It was about 1230 by then, so we decided to paddle up the coast a bit towards Rock Hall. We saw a heron posing on a duck blind in the classic Maryland License Plate Heron shot. It was pretty hot by then and the water was very shallow - the paddling was getting a bit more wearying by then and the pack of kayaks started to spread out quite a bit. After about 45 minutes the kayak herders turned the flotilla around and we headed back to Bogle's wharf. We picked up a little bit of a breeze back on the Chester River side of the bridge, and the final 1.5 miles back to the put-in was a very pleasant paddle. When we got there, the parking lot was full of a bunch of motorcyclists on Harley's, but when they saw our powerful forces approaching (brandishing VHF radios, GPS units, bailing pumps and water bottles), they quickly hopped on their bikes and scurried away.

My GPS showed a total of 13 miles of paddling spread over just about 6 hours. Real world obligations meant I couldn't stay for the food afterwards at the campground, so it was back in the truck for the 95 mile ride home. I wonder if there is a public put-in spot along Rt. 213 - if I could put in across the Chester River from Eastern Neck it would save about 35 miles of driving. I know you can put in on Kent Island but that crossing seems a lot more problem-prone that just coming across the Chester River. On the ride back, there was a 1 mile backup at the Bay Bridge toll going east-bound - I guess Saturday evening is the new Friday evening for beach traffic. Thanks to Marshall and all the others who organized this - it was great fun.

Motors - We Don't Need No Steenking Motors

A chronology of my recent history of boating: (1) Chris and June move to a waterfront home in Drum Point, MD; (2) I loan Chris my canoe, which I had used once in the previous 5 years, and go out on Mill Creek with Chris in it; (3) John decides John needs a boat, much to Carole's glee as she imagines lying on the front deck while we speed through the Bay; (4) Carole goes kayaking at Blackwater with her friends, urges me to get us kayaks; (5) I end up with 3 kayaks and, much to Carole's chagrin, kayaking satisfies my boating urge; (6) Carole realizes lounging on the front of my 16 foot Capella kayak isn't quite that same doing so on the front of a 25 foot Bayliner as we cruise into Ego Alley in Annapolis. But, hey - think of all the carbon offsets I'm earning by paddling instead of letting some gas-slurping, pollution-belching engine do all the work...

Chris, on the other hand, went in the opposite direction once he moved onto the water - despite having my canoe and being given a really nice tandem kayak by his brother-in-law, he quickly went out and bought a really nice, brand spanking new center console 19 footer. I drove down to their house and after a cursory kayak paddle around Mill Creek we went out for a ride around Drum Point and onto the Chesapeake Bay up to the Calvert Cliffs area. It was a perfect day - a decent breeze but not too rough and pretty high visibility across the bay. We saw some huge military plane doing touch and goes at the Patuxent Naval Base across the river.

On the way out, we passed the very scenic Cove Point Lighthouse, as we wound our way around the many crab pot floats. In my job, I've noticed a lot of venture capitalists talking about how their start-up companies have won many "lighthouse" accounts, meaning some very large, very visible reference accounts like a Citicorp or an Exxon Mobile or a Fidelity. I always tell them that lighthouses are used to warn you away from danger, not attract you towards something - but they just look at me like I'm an idiot.

We continued up the coasts, saw the beaches at Chesapeake Ranch and Calvert Cliffs, giving the prohibited area around the natural gas facility a wide berth. On the way back into Solomons on the Patuxent we saw a Chesapeake Paddlers Association member paddling his beautiful handmade wooden kayak in the choppy river. We then motored into downtown Solomon's, took the obligatory pictures of the Drum Point Lighthouse at the Calvert Marine Museum, and then Chris testing his docking skills (I gave him a 6 in style points with a 2.4 multiplier for degree of difficulty) and June and I ran across the road and got ice cream cones - ah, the waterfront life.

On the way back, I saw the perfect boat for me - a luxury yacht, with a kayak and a speedboat and bicycles on deck. A nice little foredeck for Carole to lounge on and plenty of room for other necessities - like a ham radio station! Hmmm, though I'm not sure it will quite as effective for me to cruise up and down Ego Alley in my trolling for a trophy wife...

Fast Times At Fountainhead

Saturday June 30th was Chesapeake Paddlers Association Race 2 at Fountainhead Regional Park. Fountainhead is really known for its mountain biking trails, but it is on the Occoquan Reservoir and has a nice boat ramp/rental facility. It's a long drive from my house - it felt like I had driven at least far enough to be in Tennessee or at least West Virginia. I'd been down that way when I was writing a bicycling book ten years ago and I scouted out Burke Lake Park's bicycling trail, but this was even further than that.

This was my third race of the year. The first was a 4 miler on the West and Rhode Rivers where I averaged 4 mph. The second was a five miler on the Potomac River, where I averaged 4.7 mph. Since those two races I've upgraded from a 13 foot long, 24 inch wide kayak to a 16.5 foot long, 22 inch wide one - definitely faster. Since this race would be a 10 miler, I did a few 10 mile paddles on Rocky Gorge Reservoir to practice with the new boat, and I was able to average 5 mph - the Capella is definitely faster.

There were about 12 people in the race. Three were doing the five mile circuit, turning around at the 2.5 mile point. The rest were doing the 10 mile course, which went five miles to a bridge and then returned to the start at the boat launch. About 5 of the 10 racers were in racing boats, about 3 of us were in shorter sea kayaks, and Cyndi was in her bright orange racing sea kayak/traffic cone.

We started at 0830, much to the amusement of the people fishing from the dock. Within a few minutes, the pack had broken into 4 groups in this order: racing boats, traffic cone, shorter boats, 5 milers. I was towards the middle of the water at the start. with a guy in an Epic 16 to my left. As we got up to speed, I settled in behind the Epic, figuring anyone in an Epic was probably faster than me. As we headed upstream towards the turnaround, a couple in a skiff with an outboard kept zigging and zagging across the water just ahead of us - since we were both doing about 5 mph it meant a steady stream of small wakes coming at different angles every few minutes.

At the 2.5 mile turn around point I realized I was faster than the guy in the Epic - I passed him on a curve and settled in trying to keep the speed-o-meter above 5mph. I went into tourist mode briefly, watching a snake swim across the river, looking at an eagle up on a tree and looking at the 8-person crew boats (crewed by normal looking people,mixed men and women - not the usual college speed demons) practicing along the water. By the 3 mile mark, about the only person I could see ahead was Cyndi off in the distance - whenever I wasn't quite sure of the line to take I could aim at the bright orange glow on the horizon.

At about the 4.5 mile mark, I saw Dave (in a racing kayak borrowed from Cyndi) and Charlie (in his Guillermot mini-Mystery that I had seen him dunk at the Rhode River race) just a few feet apart, with Bill not far behind, on their way back. That meant they were going about 25% faster than I was - the longer, faster boats (and I guess wing paddles) certainly were part of that but their paddling technique looked so smooth and was probably the bigger part. At about 4.75 miles, the bright orange glow with high speed/high angle paddles whirring about passed by and shortly I could see the bridge, the big orange buoy and Dave B. marking the turn around.

Much like in ice skating, I'm not all that good at turning sharply yet - I took a nice line on the buoy but was pretty wimpy on my right hand sweep and edging, so I took the turn pretty widely and ended up in about a foot of water. "Oh, yeah - I meant to warn you about that" said Dave, as he bemusedly watched my freighter-like turn. On the way back I could see I had a pretty good lead on the guy in the Epic and right behind him was a guy in a really short boat - it looked just slightly longer than a river kayak.

The way back was uneventful - I was pretty much paddling alone the entire time, except for occasionally passing people out for recreational paddles. Looking at the heart rate readout, I think I eased up a bit during this stretch. I kept trying to work on my stroke: rotate, stab, rotate/pull, lift, stab, repeat. Occasionally I'd get every thing right for a few strokes in a row and I could see my speed leap up to 5.7-5.9 mph, but invariably that is when I'd start to veer off course. Hmm, maybe that is the uncertainty principle at work - the act of observing my speed meant I could not be sure of my position. Correcting strokes or edging to get back on heading usually slowed me back down to the 5.0-5.2 mph range. I have a lot of work to do there. I also should have tried out using a Camelbak before the race - I didn't have any way of keeping the tube in a handy spot for just grabbing with my mouth, and had to leave it laying across my lap and stop paddling to grab it.

Midway through the race, my amazing speed had caused such incredible wind pressure on my stick-on race number that it came flying off. When I approached the finish I could see Brian look up, see a kayak without a number and then go back to reading a book, so I yelled out "I'm number 6" and he gave me a time of 1:53 for the 9.9 mile course. That works out to an average of 5.25 mph - about a 5% improvement over my previous best 10 mile time. Looking at the heart rate readout, I definitely slacked off a bit after the 5 mile turn, and I should have tried to push more at the start. Lots of room to improve.

A nice picnic and award ceremony afterwards capped things off. Thanks to Cyndi and Dave for all the effort in setting this up. I'm looking forward to the 12-miler at Wicomico, though the day before I will have just returned from 10 days in Italy. Many opportunities for excuses if I don't improve my time... Summary statistics (for most of the race, I forgot to turn my GPS on at the start) here.

Eastern Neck 1, Kayaker 0 - Film at 11

I decided to head out to Eastern Neck Island and try to paddle the 9 mile circumnavigation of the island. It is a popular place to kayak - the Eastern side of the island is on the Chester River while most of the west side is largely exposed to the Chesapeake Bay. The Eastern Neck Wildlife Refuge is just south of Rock Hall, MD - I hadn't been out that way in probably 10 years, when Carole and I spent a rainy weekend at a bed and breakfast between Chestertown and Rock Hall. I'd forgotten how looong a drive it is to get there - there is still another 35 miles or so to go after you've gone over the Chesapeake Bay Bridge. Rock Hall has gotten tarted up since I'd last been there - there is a fixed up Main Street with a coffee shop (Java Rock) and everything now.

The night before I tried a few Internet sources to get a weather forecast for Eastern Neck. Since I'd be going by myself and I still don't have all that much experience in open waters, if the forecast was for winds and high waves, I'd do something else. One forecast was for 10-15 mph winds, but starting in the afternoon, and another was for just 5 mph winds. I figured I would get an early start to beat the winds and do the exposed side early - that way I'd be on the Chester River side before the winds built up. Mistake 1 - not checking the weather forecast in the morning before I headed out.

 

When I reached the Bay Bridge the water looked pretty calm - until I reached the Eastern Shore, where there were white caps and waves crashing onto the Kent Island beach. The wind seemed to be out of the northwest and the waves were really building up as the wind roared across the Bay - or the fetch, as we old salts call it. When I crossed the Chester River at Chestertown, it looked calm as a pond but of course the river is only a hundred feet wide and very sheltered up there. When I finally crossed over the last little bridge onto Eastern Neck, looking to the West I could see nothing but whitecaps, hmmm.

However, at the Bogle's wharf launch ramp, things didn't look so bad on the Chester River side, so I decided to go for it. Of course, it turns out that the launch ramp is in sheltered Durdin's Creek - as soon as I paddled out onto the Chester River I was hit with 15-20 mph winds roaring down the mile-wide river and 1-2 foot waves. Oh, and lots of wakes from crabbing, clamming and fishing boats - it was pretty exciting. I figured I still head around towards Eastern Neck narrows, go under the bridge and see if it was too rough to try the Bay side. However, once I reached the open area past Boxes Point I was already in whitecaps and confused seas (actually, the seas knew exactly what they were doing - I was the confused one) - since I was by myself and at the edge of my skills, I decided to turn around, which resulted in some exciting paddling with the wind at my back and some good practice surfing some swells.

I explored the sheltered area of Shipyard creek and saw many herons and assorted normal birds, and kept going back out into the Chester River to paddle in the whitecaps to get more comfortable in the Capella in those kinds of seas. After about 6 miles of paddling I decided to call it a day and went back to the launch. On the way off of the Island I made mistake number 2 and stopped at the lookout area at Tubby's Cove to take some pictures. As I walked on the boardwalk I thought "Those bushes look just like enormous poison ivy or poison sumac bushes, good thing there is a boardwalk." At the end of the boardwalk there is a lookout platform that had some weeds growing along side - one of which apparently swiped my arm as I stopped to take pictures. Yup - I got a horrendous case of poison sumac or poison oak without even knowing I'd touched anything.

My wife helpfully forwarded me an article about how global warming is causing poison ivy to become even more potent, and when I checked the NOAA weather it turned out there were small craft warnings for the Bay that day...

Wye, I Oughtta

The forecast was for the hottest day of the year - 95 degrees and high humidity. Sounded like perfect weather to paddle 13 miles around Wye Island. Events had conspired to thwart my previous try at paddling around the Island, and since I want to try to do the Wye Island Regatta race in September, I wanted to learn the navigation around the Island well in advance.  It sounds simple (keep the island on your left shoulder) but when you are out there it is pretty hard to tell the river from various coves and other dead ends.

I decided that if I got an early enough start I could beat the heat, so I was on the road by 6am and (after the traditional 7-11 coffee and a muffin stop) 70 miles later I was at the Wye Landing boat ramp. There was only one parking spot left which made me worry about how much boat traffic I'd run into, but it ended up I saw very few boats on the river - I guess most of the boats went out on the bay. There was a heron squawking on a boat moored just off the launch area, but the resolution (and lack of a zoom) on my cheap waterproof camera didn't really pick it up.

When I put in at about 0730 it was the tail end of the flood tide and the water was all the way up to the asphalt - the little beach was completely under water. The last time I put here I had to put on a dry suit, neoprene socks, gloves, etc - this time I had to stow extra water, put on sunscreen, yada yada. Hot water paddling is about as much work as cold water paddling. Since I was by myself I carried an extra paddle, pump, paddle float, GPS, map and directions in a water-proof case - I felt like a real(tm) sea kayaker. The sun was just starting to burn through the morning haze and it was already about 75 degrees out and humid. There was barely a breath of a breeze and the water was like glass as I pushed away from the launch.

I paddled in the direction that the Wye Regatta would take, counter-clockwise around the Island. I had printed out the race directions for following the shortest line around the Island without getting stuck in the shallows, plus I had downloaded the area topo map to my Garmin 60cs GPS. However, trying to find a spot where I could put the directions and the GPS and read them while paddling was a challenge. Once I did arrange everything so that works, it turned out that every time I tried to paddle while looking down to read the directions I seemed to make a hard left turn. I ended up having to stop paddling and glide every time I needed to check the directions or the map.

On the first 2.25 mile stretch to the Wye Island bridge I came upon a sculler heading my way. The water was so calm that long after he left I could follow his trail of bubbles to the bridge, but I thought: Why should I trust his line? Those scullers can't even see where they are going - they are facing backwards. As I pondered this dilemma in the early morning quiet, something huge splashed in the water just inches from my paddle - I was so startled I almost fell out of the boat. There were lots of areas of tiny fishies leaping out of the water to escape bigger fish below, so I figured it was a big rockfish or something. There were other larger, more permanent boils in the water off to the sides - those must of been some of the submerged obstacles that would be visible at a lower tide.

Once under the bridge, you make a left turn and start heading towards Grapevine Point. Another big splash near my paddle, but I wasn't that surprised this time. Then I saw what at first looked like two small shark fins but I realized it was a cownose ray. I'd heard about them but never seen one before. On the rest of the paddle I would see dozens of them. Turns out they are sort of pests - many claims that they ruin oyster beds as they flap their wings to find clams on the bottom. I wasn't really pushing the speed, since I was sort of in tourist mode and trying to navigate at the same time - every time I checked I was doing about 4.5 mph.

After Grapevine Point you are supposed to cross the main channel and head south towards Drum Point along the mainland side. However, this is a clam dredging area and there were some big dredge boats chugging up and down the channel throwing off some huge wakes and I didn't really want to try and cut in front of them. So I stayed on the Island shore side until they passed and then headed across the channel and across their wakes - whee! There was a bit more wind on this stretch and some following swells. I'm really not very good at staying straight when a swell pushes me forward and I had to keep correcting as I wiggled about and really didn't get any speed benefit. Maybe I should have put the skeg down.

I passed the beach at Drum Point with about 5.9 miles on the clock and decided not to stop since I was feeling pretty good. I must have taken a decent line up to that point, as Drum Point was supposed to be about 6 miles in. I had made a major gear mistake - rather that taking my usual biking water bottles I had chosen an extra large one with a sippy straw top, which turned out to leak when horizontal in the deck rigging. So, I had to put the water bottle between my legs in the cockpit, which meant opening the spray skirt every time I wanted to drink. I really didn't need the spray skirt, given the calm conditions. I was so hot that I ended up just leaving the front of it unhooked.

The major navigational error in circumnavigating Wye Island (and turning a 12 mile loop into a 35 mile expeditions...) is missing Bordley Point and heading out towards the Chesapeake Bay. The directions say to look for "a few scraggly evergreens (not prominent)" and "a tall, bent flag pole" across the channel - I didn't see any evergreens and maybe someone straightened out that flagpole, but the turn is hard to miss in any event. I hit the 9 mile mark at exactly 2 hours in, so I was averaging 4.5 mph up to that point.

The sun was now pretty high in the sky and there was still very little breeze - I was starting to feel the heat and emptied my water bottle by the 10 mile mark. Since there was only about 3 miles to go I didn't stop to get out the extra 1/2 gallon of water I had put in the forward hatch. My speed when just paddling naturally dropped on the final stretch and I figured the ebb tide was slowing me a bit. I reached the white boathouse area that is the end of the Regatta course at 2 hours 48 minutes, a very wimpy race time but not bad considering I was mostly in tourist mode.

When I reached Wye Landing, the water level was just as high was when I left 3 hours earlier - so much for the ebb tide slowing me down. I guess there is a bit of current going down river but I think the heat was the major factor - by then it was about 85 degrees and solid haze. There was a woman artist parked at the ramp, painting the bucolic harbor scene. I guzzled about a quart of water and packed everything up for the drive home.

Now that I know the course, the next time out I can eschew the gliding to read the directions and I can push the speed more and see  if I can get that time down a bit. Either way is a win-win - Wye Island is just a great place to paddle.