March 2009

Out on Loch Striven ... on a Thursday

I recall a TV advert some years ago (in the US, I think) which featured a be-suited chap walking down a busy city street. He is stopped dead in his tracks by the sight of a SUV driving past, fully laden with adventure gear and evidently heading off to the great outdoors somewhere well beyond the city limits. As he stares in disbelief, he mumbles, “But it’s Tuesday”. I can relate to both parties in that advert – I have been that frustrated office worker, but more recently I have been that Tuesday skiver. Guess which one I like best!

So it was Thursday and the sun was shining. As much as I love my days spent in the office clicking a mouse and attending to the whims important and pressing needs of my customers, I decided to take advantage of the benefits of being self-employed and awarded myself a well-deserved day off. Alan did likewise, so we hit the high seas for a day of unremitting enjoyment in the wind and waves (and calm). We had a bit of everything to keep us entertained, a brisk breeze and some lumpiness upon setting out (which saw our Nordkapps friskily at play), followed by an ethereal flat calm by the end of the day.

Returning in the gloaming

After reaching Bute, we headed north towards the Kyles. We stopped for lunch at a nice little beach back over on the Cowal side and noted that the temperature would suggest that it wasn’t quite summer yet. As we were approaching Colintraive, Alan commented that his shoulder was beginning to hurt. Rolling practice has taken its toll, alas. I therefore resigned myself to a slightly shorter paddle than I’d been anticipating. We turned around and started heading homewards, but then Alan suggested we take a detour up Loch Striven, and very pleasant it was. Having gone some way up the loch, we worked our way back down towards Toward. After 26 km of paddling, I began to notice that I was feeling the tiniest bit exerted, and contemplated who, at this rate, would win the competition for the sorest shoulders. Alan appeared to have worked through his pain, but I was developing some new and interesting aches all of my very own. I consoled myself by focusing on the beautiful surroundings, the various seal sightings (5 total!), the birds, the peacefulness and the realisation that I was building some good conditioning for the months of paddling ahead.

Miscellaneous observations from our outing:

• I still cannot imagine making an urgent surf landing after a full day’s paddling. As I peel my spray deck back, it takes some considerable time for me to re-engage the use of my legs. This, combined with the uneven surface of the shoreline, often reduces me to a state of near crawling on hands and knees, which is all very pathetic. Answers on a postcard please …
• If I tweak the wrist seals of my drysuit throughout the day, it stops my hands from swelling. Good to know.
• Sanitary products of a feminine nature do not miraculously evaporate when flushed down the toilet. If they don’t choke the sewage system, they are likely to end up floating in the sea, which is unpleasant for humans and wildlife alike. (Perhaps there is a need for an awareness campaign here).
• To my mind, seals sound a lot like whales when they snort unexpectedly behind you.
• Nordkapps handle chop with consummate ease.

And so on Friday, I returned refreshed and renewed to my desk … until such time as the contents of my inbox disgorged themselves on to my PC screen at least. I’m not sure if these sneaky days off truly serve the purpose of renewal, especially as I do have to make up the lost work time, or if they just leave one yearning for a lot more of the same.

“Some people say that mountain climbers are really wasting their time. They have nothing better to do so they climb mountains, tire themselves out, and come back with nothing to show for it. Yet a person who climbs a tall mountain sees the world and experiences nature in a very different way from someone who never leaves his own front door. Genuine mountain climbers do not struggle up great precipices for the glory of it. They know that glory is only a label given by others. A true climber climbs for the experience of climbing.” Ch’an Master Sheng-yen,

Kayaking wannabe

Here I am back out on the Clyde, where else, for a putter on a breezy day. We had a bit of a workout as we paddled into the wind and chop, but nothing too severe. Having experienced a bit of chop before, and now that I can roll (kayaks in the Dunoon pool … er, on one side), you might think I could be getting a bit cocky more assured. I have, however, recently been reminded that I am still very much a wannabe in this business. Let me explain …

It so happened to be a certain someone’s birthday last week and what better present to give the keen sea kayaker than a copy of This Is The Sea 4 (and no – I dare not refer to the commonly used acronym for this DVD series for fear of having my blog black-listed, or consigned to the murkier depths of the Internet). Anyway, having watched and enjoyed This Is The Sea 1 and 2, and having heard many favourable reports about the most recent number 4 in the series, I felt it was a safe bet to order in a copy as a present. The fact that I sat and watched it alongside the birthday boy was an incidental bonus, of course. The DVD consists of 2 discs (and is thus excellent value for money). The first contains several short films featuring sea kayakers from around the world. The 2 films on this disc that left the greatest impression on Alan and me were the one featuring a (certifiably insane) sea kayaking duo (along with brave film-maker, Justine Curgenven) on the wild and woolly Ottawa River, as well as the film featuring “commando kayaker”, Dubside. One thing is clear, these are not any old kayakers, especially the latter. I’m not sure about dressing in black and acquiring a self-assembly kayak, but using the bus system to get to one’s launch spot has its appeal in terms of generally maintaining harmony with the low eco-footprint of kayaking. As a small start, I have thought about purchasing a trolley so that we could wheel our kayaks down to the shore where we launch. The only thing that puts me off is the thought of hiking back up the (steep) hill after a day’s exertions, with kayaks in tow.

Disc 2 contains footage of 2 exceptional kayaking expeditions: the first involves a journey around the Queen Charlotte Islands, or Haida Gwaii, off the west coast of Canada. It so happens that I am currently reading a book about that very location, “The Golden Spruce: A True Story of Myth, Madness and Greed” by John Vaillant, which offers a captivating insight into the history and culture of this area (and its relationship with the logging industry in particular). The second expedition involves film-maker Justine and her partner, Barry Shaw, circumnavigating the South Island of New Zealand. This is certainly not for the faint-hearted. Surf becomes an ever-present theme and I could practically taste the salt water (and the adrenaline) as Justine and Barry took on yet another dreaded surf launching or landing. This really is tremendous filmwork and I think the “up close and personal” nature of the filming truly involves the viewer at a level not seen in many other adventure documentaries.

The end result is both inspiring and humbling. We at once recognise that we need a lot more kayaking experience under our belts before we can aspire to anything like some of the trips reviewed in the DVDs, but we also very much look forward to gaining that experience.

With that in mind, I did take my nose clip with me today – you know, just in case I had the opportunity to break out into a bit of rolling practice on the sea. Once I get over this particular aversion, there’ll be no stopping me.

Finally, finally, after many months of effort, it has all come together. I knew I was getting closer, and even felt a little nervous in a now-or-never sort of way as I travelled along to the pool last night. Picking up where I left off at the last session, and with one last tweak, it happened – my first unassisted and successful sweep roll! The joy is indescribable. No, really. I know that, in the grand scheme of things, in the middle of a global economic meltdown for example, being able to roll a kayak might not be considered to be very important. But for those of us who love kayaking and have worked diligently towards achieving this skill, it is a very big deal indeed. I haven’t stopped grinning. Not even the news that the country is bankrupt could upset me. Oh wait …

I think on my first attempts to learn rolling and on the panic and disorientation experienced back then. My presence in a pool full of proficient paddlers felt like sacrilege, like the embarrassing drunk at a wedding. It was quite some time ago, but yet not that long ago really. All those weeks of capsizing and using a float or Alan’s hands to right myself, working on the building blocks until the movements became imbued in muscle memory, until the disorientation diminished and the brain was able to engage – all have amounted to something at last. Many are the times I thought I might never roll, so it is with some disbelief that I reflect on last night’s success.

Perhaps it is that disbelief that causes me a little trepidation. After one roll, for example, I was gripped with a fear that it might be my first and last, that I’d never be able to repeat the feat. After several rolls, however, I started to believe. Then the drill turned towards more unpredictable capsizes, with no opportunity to set up – and still I could roll. The joy! It felt a lot like learning to ride a bike – hard to explain, but something just clicked.

For anyone who is in the process of learning to roll, and especially anyone who has felt dejected on occasion, I hope that my experience might encourage you. I had no natural ability or raw talent – indeed, as noted, I was markedly averse to the prospect of repeated underwater dunkings when I started out. It took lots of perseverance, patience, an occasional rest, and a reminder that self-doubt is merely an empty and unnecessary distraction. It also took the assistance of many people: all the folks at Garnock Canoe Club who got me off and running and, more recently, the Benmore Outdoor Centre coaches who have been providing training at the Riverside pool in Dunoon. The latter training sessions have been a terrific bonus, being a mere 10 minutes from our house. And what better way to learn than via a pool full of enthusiastic coaches. Our little sub-group’s excellent coach was able to spot the 2 main impediments to my roll. For the record, they were an inadequate torso extension/sweep, plus incorrect blade angle. Correcting those 2 things was like flipping a switch for me.

But the coach who helped me the most, and to whom I am most indebted (sorry for getting all Oscars night here) is Alan. He isn’t a qualified coach of course, but he’s the one who’s stood by me night after night, ready to rescue me after my many, many failed rolls, and to offer a word of encouragement, to guide my paddle, to listen to me dissect my mistakes every Saturday morning ad nauseum. His patience knows no bounds and this is not the first time that he has helped me to achieve a goal that I’d previously thought to be nigh impossible.

Of course, the work is far from done. My next big task is to translate my new skills over to rolling up on both sides (ha!), to new and different boats (sea kayaks even – imagine!), to perfecting all the finer points, to doing kingup apummaatigut … ok, getting carried away, will stop here.