I’ve been reading several online discussions on the Nordkapp LV and it’s very interesting to learn the varying opinions on suitability. Comments about its “instability” abound. I read of one person who gave up their Nordkapp LV in favour of a UKSK Explorer as they were tired of “having to think” about the kayak when on the water. In contrast, another person stated that they were selling their Explorer in favour of their Nordkapp LV because the Explorer was “too boring” in comparison. Someone else mooted that the “instability” issue is overblown and that, where there is any perceived primary “instability”, it is in order to afford greater secondary stability and impressive maneoeuverability, particularly in rough conditions when it is “rock solid”. Then there is the issue of fit. Views have been expressed in various forums that the Nordkapp LV is still too big for a smaller, lighter paddler. But I found when testing it that everything sat where it should, and that the kayak felt comfortable and nippy (unlike others I tested which felt cumbersome and bulky). There may be some nuances that fall short of absolute textbook perfection, but that leads me to question – what is the perfect fit for a smaller, lightweight paddler? A totie wee Avocet LV? That’s a bit like having to shop in the kids’ clothing section. And even early thoughts on the Rockpool Isel suggest that it might only be suitable for very short camping trips. Not that I’m planning to circumnavigate Iceland or anything (not quite yet), but 2 or 3 nights would be good.

Yet another poster chipped in to a US forum with a comment to the effect (and I paraphrase), “You’re all a bunch of gear-heads”, and opined that it’s not about finding the perfect boat, it’s about learning to paddle any boat (within reason). Wait, this is sounding familiar … yet I do believe the poster was from Minnesota, and not the Garnock area (at least, they said they were).

Short of having a kayak built to spec (and what kind of odd little boat would I end up with?!), I am happy to acknowledge that I am a novice and that I wish to learn. In other words, I am happy to “fit” a kayak that I am comfortable in and that has a lot to offer me. It’s easy to be torn in different directions by the trends and opinions that are out there, but I think you have to trust a bit of instinct as well.

I hear that you and your band have sold your guitars and bought turntables.
I hear that you and your band have sold your turntables and bought guitars.

I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.

But have you seen my records? …

You don’t know what you really want.

Losing My Edge LCD Soundsystem

Me, I’m Not, NIN, Year Zero

Back at the pool practising eskimo rescues and, what do you know, like a moth to a flame, like a missile seeking heat, I honed in on precisely all the things you shouldn’t do most with a good dollop of irrational fear mixed in. Alan performed a few near perfect rolls, even managing to wait while inverted until I blundered into position as rescuer. Next it was my turn and I made the interesting discovery that something happens to my brain when my head is underwater. Basically, it stops functioning – a bit like when you get a blue screen of death on a PC. Or it enters a parallel universe where there is no up or down, all logic is suspended and the only thing that resides there is the specter of a watery grave.

What you’re supposed to do:

• capsize and thump the bottom of your upturned boat 3 times
• run your hands back and forward to “feel” for the approaching rescue boat
• grab the rescue boat’s bow
• gently hip flick your boat to an upright position, bringing your head up afterwards

What I did:

• capsize
• forget to thump boat
• panic
• fumble
• forget to pull deck off
• panic some more
• try to come up wrong side
• keep panicking
• hit head on rescue boat
• drink half the pool
• emerge, gasping dramatically for air

and repeat. But for the fact that I had 3 helpful coaches looking on in concern, I was ready to descend into a complete public meltdown. Alan recognised the signs as I began to suggest that I’d had enough for the evening. He proceeded to pre-empt me by asking if it was because I was always so hopeless at everything and couldn’t get anything right. As I nodded feebly in agreement, he then asked if that was me giving up kayaking for good then (he knows me too well!). I sensed his and the coaches’ anticipation of my next attempt, recalled some Zen teachings and told my ego to step aside for a moment.

I did eventually end the evening with several successful rescue-rolls with Alan taking the place of the rescue boat. Locating his arm was somehow more attainable than feeling for a boat. As I analysed this later, I began to realise that 2 things had been going on previously in my disoriented mind. First, upon detecting the rescue boat, my mind actually apprehended an obstacle to my immediate need to surface – hence the insanity of trying to surface up the wrong side. Secondly, the concept of “boat” got highly muddled in my brain – Alan’s boat, my boat, up, down, left, right – it was all too much. Whereas human flesh was something more instantly definable. Getting hold of a warm arm of assistance was just so much more attainable than grabbing some random plastic. Or something.

Anyway, my many attempts have left me feeling today like I spent last night flushing my head down the toilet. It’s been humbling, but I remain undeterred.

But we do have to endure the 10 hour flight to LA first. I’m lining up a couple of books, including “Blazing Paddles” by Brian Wilson, as well as a fully loaded iPod of course. The latter includes an essential soundtrack of a gazillion songs (although, as usual, I doubt I’ll get much beyond NIN), as well as the entire Fawlty Towers series (albeit the battery won’t cope) plus some miscellaneous podcasts. It’s a sad state of affairs when Alan and I both find ourselves, quite out of character, looking forward to the flight as it represents an enforced state of doing nothing-ness.

Once we get there, we have a few things planned. First of all – shopping! If you are envisaging us trekking around the fashion malls, you are quite wrong. Fashion extends no further than REI or the North Face outlet store for Alan and me, and that’s where we’ll be headed, as well as the paddle shop. As everything in the US is 2 for a pound/Euro right now (at least the dollar rate is), it’s like one ginormous sale for European visitors. We will have to set ourselves a budget before we get carried away in a consumerist frenzy – the very thing I’m prone to disdain. But think of all the gear we could get, and so cheap …

Naturally, the trip won’t be given over entirely to shopping. We do intend to go paddling in the Monterey area, as well as to call in on a very special old friend – one of the most awesomely beautiful places on the planet and scene of some of my most special memories: Yosemite. That’s the bit when it gets emotional.

No blog entry is complete without a small paddling update. We have now moved off of the loch and on to the pool, being Garnock pool on a Friday night. We’ve made tiny little inroads into learning support strokes and bracing, leading up to (sharp intake of breath) rolling … eventually. We’ve started to get a feel for hip flicks, although it’s all very new right now. I’m going easy on myself in view of how much new information/sensation there is to take in. Once I adapt, I’ll be in a better position to learn technique. The first big task is to overcome an instinctive aversion to having one’s head underwater. This is manifested in particular whilst practising hip flicks when, as novices, our immediate reaction is to get our head out of the water first, whereas it should in fact be last out. Upon attempting an eskimo rescue, I did, however, learn that being fully immersed under your boat isn’t nearly as unpleasant in a warm swimming pool as it is in cold Loch Eck. I managed to fall out my boat, of course (if there’s a wrong way to do it …). This is going to take time and a whole lot of practice. If only I had a pool of my own … and a wee playboat … and a personal trainer …