The Outer limits

Last week I returned from two very different kayak adventures in the Apostles on either side of the Labor Day weekend.  The post weekend trip was with the usual suspects on the annual fall trip and the pre weekend event was with five boys and two adults from the Washburn Scout troop.  While they were different, they were both fun as well as instructive.

The scout trip had five boys and three adults.  While they all lived in the Bayfield peninsula, none had been to the islands via a people powered boat.  Maps and compasses were required and explained and five crossings we did over the course of three days were uneventful though slow.  The group got strung out on the second one from Sand to York, but with light winds and mild chop it wasn't much of an issue.  I did explain why we want to stick together however and we had a nice tight formation for the last three.  We did have one double, a really good fall back if there is a weaker or ill paddler, as well as a great place to store extra 'comfort' gear.  The boys cooked us breakfast and supper over the wood fire, which I always enjoy, and had the camping part dialed in due to BWCA canoe trips and backpacking adventures in the Porkies.  The 11.5 miles from Sand Island to the Oak spit was a bit much for some of the guys but we all survived just fine.  I was determined that if the wind was over ten knots we would abort and head back to Little Sand Bay but, contrary to the forecast 15-20 out of the NE, we got light and variable, perfect for beginning paddlers.  We also had an estrogen component in the group, sis-in-law  the MayorOfTurtleRiver.  She has experience in scouting up in the Bemidji area with her two boys and was a welcome addition.  Plus she got to hang around Washburn with her eldest sis, the VoiceOfReason.  Blueberries were picked, music enjoyed at the Big Top, and a bit more paddling was squeezed in, although much more Gitchee Gumee paddling is needed in her opinion.

In keeping with that double kayak mode, RangerMark and the BadHatter decided to take the Aleut II on our fall adventure, this year to Outer Island for two nights.  Once again the spacious middle hatch allowed for such things as a restaurant style butane burner for convenient gourmet dining plus the extra space to make sure there would be enough adult beverages if we were windbound.  As usual when paddling the Apostles there were pros and cons with the pros heavily outweighing the cons.  When we arrived on Ironwood Island, our first night, we found 'Bring back the picnic tables' spelled out in sticks on one of the tent pads.  We heartily agreed.  Even though it is technically the Gaylord Nelson Wilderness Area, the campsites are far from bare bones wilderness.  They all have a large metal bear box, many paid for by a combination of the Friends and  a half dozen kayak clubs around the area, tent pads and fire areas surrounded neatly by 8 x 8 timber borders, and a iron fire ring with cooking grate.  We all have camp chairs but, like everyone gravitating to the kitchen to talk, it's just nice to have a place to lean your elbows while relaxing.  I'll bet those same kayak groups might ante up for a few tables.  I'm not sure what happened to the ones that used to be there but the ones in the group sites are really nice.   They also moved the campsite on Outer about 250 yards up the spit.  Being a creature of habit, I bombed in and did a surf landing when I saw the small sign that I thought was the campsite sign was actually the sign at the right.  Oh well, back in the boat, launch through surf and another surf landing 250yards up the beach.  We then encountered the ‘tents within a first down of this sign’ sign.  One smart ass decided that touching the sign would be a good thing, but I’m not sure the sign was needed.  There were maybe 3 or 4 places to pitch a tent and that was it.

The overall experience on both trips was outstanding however.  We watched the red light on Devils flash from the Little Sand Bay dock, and watched a thunderstorm complete with multiple lightning strikes savage the Bayfield peninsula as we sat there high and dry, protected by the Gitchee Gumee force field or something.  The Oak group site, far and away the best group site in the islands has a perfect view, big dry area for tents, and the high ground breeze that keeps the bugs at a manageable level.  For some reason the NPS is talking about closing this site, a spot where there has been human habitation for quite some time. I don’t get it but it’s on the table for some reason.  The Ironwood campsite is fabulous, an observation I made when we camped there last August. Nice tent pads, exposure to a nice breeze, and a bombproof landing area against anything but a southerly wind. The Milky Way was just cookin’ on a moonless night and we saw so many satellites we began to think there was some sort of NSA facility hidden away on Ironwood. We visited the new Cat Island site which is no longer on the beach.  It is nicely thought out with a water view but it looks like it might harbor a mosquito or two during the buggy season.  It has a cool composting privy and it will be interesting to see how that works. We even got some big water to paddle in as we began our 22 mile trip from Outer to Red Cliff.  It was all of 3-5’ which oddly enough is what NOAA forecast on the nearshore.  The north shore of Stockton offered a nice lee for a dozen or so miles and by then the wind had decided to taper off. I also have to hand it to the Red Cliff Band.  I feared no more kayak launching when the big fancy casino came in but you can launch and park for a fee and when you get done paddling a nice shower awaits you along with a beer in their lounge overlooking the harbor.  Be advised that the beer should be purchased while breathing very shallowly and taken out to the patio because every guy who used to love sitting in a bar smoking before the ban is at Red Cliff, exercising that right.

Good weather, good company, active water on Gitchee Gumee and a great park.  I couldn’t think of anywhere I would have rather been.  Now Bob and Neil, about those picnic tables………….

Lost Roll Found

I've got a dirty little secret I need to get off my chest.  No, it's not the confession that my tent has only been on an island for one night this year, or the fact that I actually spent an entire day on Superior with a Euro paddle.  It's my forward finishing rolls.  My chest scull and forward sweep seemedto have disappeared.  A lot of people out there like to point fingers and I will keep the tradition alive by fingering RonO and GalwayGuy as two of the main causes of the missing rolls.  With GG out in Minot, ND on a Mission from God and RonO happily wrenching on bear watching aircraft in Homer, AK, my group of rolling compadres has dwindled to zero.  Sure, there are folks who want to roll for a bit but they actually want to paddle and, worse than that, actually spend the better part of the evening paddling!  With Ron and GG, a good night was launching, paddling 35 yards from shore, and rolling off and on for an hour or so.  We would then adjourn to the closest establishment to discuss and dissect said rolls over esoteric pints of fine ale.  I have not discussed my problem with either of them and kind of suspect that they may be suffering from the same problem.  I don't recall any decent body of water near Minot and I most certainly recall from last years trip, that the water in the Homer area is a bit brisk for extended rolling.  With the 'normal' avenues of critique and roll refinement hundred and thousands of miles away, It was apparent that Plan B and C needed to be put into place.

Plan B was pretty simple.  Since I was coaching up at the Great Lakes Symposium I would just stroll down to the rolling beach during some spare time and let the guy that showed me the secrets of the chest scull in the first place, FivePieceRoy, diagnose the problem.  The only things wrong with that plan were, a) due to the grueling, indentured servant-like scheduling of the cruel Bill Thompson and maniacal Kelly Blades, I didn't have any spare time and b) neither did FivePieceRoy.  He had groupies lined up every minute that he was in the water down at the rolling beach. So rather than refining and diagnosing my roll I was forced to consume pints of Cabin Fever Bitter at the Dunes Saloon and taste fine Irish and Scotch whiskeys from the back of JB's van. I will admit though, that all angst about rolling was pushed into the mental closet by these convivial activities.  I knew the vacation week in the Grand Island area wouldn't offer any rolling tips either.  The BadHatter is concerned with having one good roll and one only so he can come up without wet exiting if he should find himself upside down unexpectedly.  He feels that anything other than a standard sweep is for trained seals and why bother worrying about some contorted forward sweep BS when you have a solid standard roll? 

It would appear that Plan C would need to be executed.  Plan C was by far the most solid of my schemes and one that was damn near foolproof.  I had signed up for ChrisG at Boreal Shores' annual Lake Superior fun with Turner and Cheri from KayakWays.  I knew in the back of my mind that this was my ace in the hole, up the sleeve, on the bottom of the deck or whatever.  We spent the morning working on various Greenland stroke techniques and remembering things that were in the back of my head but needed to be dragged to the forefront again.  Turner's comment that, "I come out here to the midwest and you guys all have this low angle stroke; what's that all about anyway?" struck home once again. He also handed me a new Razor paddle that he'd made for me and actually finished on the way to Bayfield in Parry Sound, ON.  I'm certain that Turner really wanted to visit the Bobby Orr Hall of Fame museum but diligently finished my stick instead.  Thanks man!

Now for the reconstruction of my chest scull and forward finishing rolls.  I'd like to say that observation, refinement, and hard practice for a couple hours got me back in the groove.  Actually, it took Cheri Perry about 12 seconds of watching one lame assed roll to inform me, "Olson, you're not dropping your head, you aren't staying flat on the water, and you're lifting your shoulder before you slide up on the front deck".  I thought to myself, 'I can't be that screwed up, am I?', but of course I was.  Keeping those three elements in mind, I hit the first roll painfully and then things smoothed out and got back to normal after a few reps.  I am officially back in my forward finishing groove.  A good roll is like hitting a baseball or a good golf swing.  Bad contact sends vibrations up your arms and the ball kind of dribbles off your bat or club.  Contact in the sweet spot makes you feel like you never even hit the ball as you watch it soar off into the distance.  Good rolling technique is the same way, practically zero effort or strain and you're up.  When we Neanderthal males encounter difficulty we automatically revert to upper body strength and muscling our way through the problem, an exceedingly stupid way to deal with it.

I guess there are a couple of lessons to be gleaned from this tale of rolling woe.  The first is that instructors need to continue their own instruction.  Constant learning and refinement is a good idea no matter when endeavor you are involved in.  The second is to not wait so long before dealing with a problem, kind of like our propensity to wait too long before visiting the doctor. I know, I know, it's a guy thing.  Lastly, good solid instruction is always worth it.  Always.  Maybe next year I'll drag the BadHatter up to Bayfield for this event.  Cheri actually got him rolling for the first time at the last Traditional Gathering held in Akeley, MN many years back.  I also need to take advantage of the rolling resources here in town.  Christopher Crowhurst has a session or two or twelve and had been kind enough to invite me more than once, but my mental state by the time I get down to Spring Lake on the faaar side of town, usually during rush hour, is so foul and toxic that it takes me 45 minutes to get my head back on straight.  Thoughts of harpooning the 24 year old bleached blonde woman, talking on her cell phone as she tailgates me down I-35W in her fluorescent Ford Focus, take a while to leave my brain.  Thoughts of living full time in a county that still does not have one single stop light on the other hand, rarely leave my brain.  No stoplights since Wednesday evening.  Three day trip with the Boy Scouts was completed, assisted by the MayorOfTurtleRiver then a 5 day Outer Island adventure with the usual suspects for the annual Fall trip. In between Labor Day fun with the VOR, Matt, and TheMayor, including some music at the Big Top Chautauqua.  I may even practice a forward finishing roll or two along the way.

Point to LaPointe Open Water Swim 2013

A week ago Saturday a bunch of us provided safety boat coverage for the Point to LaPointe Open Water Swim.  It seemed like a reunion of blog characters with the VOR, Gurney Granny, CleanDeckKate, GreenThumbChef, Podman, KingOfIronwoodIsland, Professor LIchen, ManFromSnowyLegs, and RangerMark all crawling out of bed at dark o'clock to make the safety meeting at 7am under the big Willow tree on Trek & Trail beach in Bayfield.  There were plenty of local folks in kayaks as well and over 400 swimmers registered with 38 safety boaters in the mix.  The weather was beautiful, cool and dry, and the lake started out placid with no wind at all.  That would change a bit by mid race as we shall see.

The start is always impressive and the sound of 400 people splashing through the water at once is some audio that can only be heard at a unique event such as this.  Swimmers are all wearing bright neon swim caps which really helps the safety folks keep track of everyone.  In the end our mission is just that, to keep track of everyone and make sure that tired, cold, or cramped up swimmers are taken care of by the power boat crews and their medical staff.  Kayakers are given zones that correspond the five large orange buoys that mark the course and we are supposed to unfold like an accordion as the lead swimmers cover the two miles to LaPointe on Madeline Island.  On the back end, the folks in charge of the sweep are making sure the last swimmer is covered and that the cordon of safety boats slowly closes up and heads for Madeline Island.  The lead swimmers cover the distance in roughly 45 minutes. The course is shut down at 10pm, two and a half hours after the start.  Forty five minutes into the swim, when the leaders were stepping out of the water was also about the time the wind and current kicked up with interesting yet predictable results. 

Those big orange buoys are tethered to the bottom, a bottom that is over 100' down in a couple of instances, by a cable and anchor.  They provide a rough guide for swimmers as they cross the channel. When the wind and current pick up they will drift.  The primary function of the kayaks is safety; the majority of time however is spent making sure the swimmers are headed for Madeline Island and not Basswood Island or Ashland.  The north to south current this year made for many Ashland bound swimmers.

I'm a lousy swimmer but a guy who can get stay afloat and get from point A to B most of the time.  I did complete the Mile Swim BSA in Boy Scouts but that was during Lyndon Johnson's administration.  Unlike we Scouts following a rowboat for a mile, alternating between crawl, backstroke, and side stroke, these swimmers were focused on one stroke and kept swimming relentlessly. Once the current started the relentless swimming continued, just not always in the direction of the finish line.  There are a number of techniques for getting folks back on course.  Most of the competitors have goggles and many also have earplugs.  Yelling does not work worth a damn.  Pounding on the side of the kayak can work but the best way to get a person's attention is to poke them with a paddle, a technique that race director Scott Armstrong refers to as being kayaked.  All are startled, some are pissed. We then explain that if they continue in their present mode they will circle back to Bayfield; we point toward the finish line, a goal that we paddlers with our eyes 30" above the water can see clearly.  About a quarter mile from the finish line, a line  marked with balloons, banners, and cheering spectators, I poked a guy and pointed to the finish line and asked him if he could see it.  "I can't see anything, my goggles are fogged up".  Hmmmmm.  Maybe take em off?  I asked another guy how he made sure he was going in a straight line.  "I just key on the splashes of the guy in front of me.  The theory of lemmings blithely jumping off a cliff had been debunked but the idea of distance swimmers following each other, perhaps in a circle is apparently alive and well.  I found that if I aimed 17' of brightly colored fiberglass at the finish line like an arrow that worked the best for the swimmers to key on.  I would then paddle alongside for awhile and that seemed to work.  Once I moved on to the next group of swimmers though, all bets were off.

I've had fun with this little story and have had fun with the race for the last several years as well.  There is no way in hell I could swim two miles, and I applaud everyones effort.  As my buddy Eric Iverson pointed out, the guy that finished dead last still beat everyone that didn’t swim, including Eric and I. For the most part the swimmers navigate the crossing without much  trouble and although the main pack tends to expand and contract in all directions things go pretty smoothly.  The main goal is to be alert for tired or cold swimmers, a mission that RangerMark fulfilled when he helped two swimmers out of the water.  There is always room for improvement though, and at 7:20am both swimmers and safety boaters can be a bit groggy and sometimes information can go in one ear and out the other.  LIke most endeavors that are worthwhile, constant improvement is the goal.  I have some kayaking contacts out in the Bay Area that have safety boated the Alcatraz swim as well as other ocean events and I hope to get some tips from them.  While we don't have a 3 knot ebb tide like they have in the bay, there are certain constants to the safety boating mission. If any readers have any good suggestions or insights, please comment or email me.  As the swim grows larger, and it has grown geometrically over the years, more experienced and organized safety boat volunteers are a necessity.  The Coast Guard has a sizable presence as do the volunteers in the Coast Guard Auxiliary and medical volunteers.  Good coordination and communication between all parties can make this an even more fun and keep this very popular event safe and efficient as it grows.  It's a great day on the water for everyone involved in this cool community event and it can only get better.