CASKA: Chicago Area Sea Kayakers Association

Everglades and Dry Tortugas - A Dream Realized

Jim Tibensky

I have paddled in the Everglades every year since 1998 with Omni Youth Services of Illinois, helping as a volunteer for their wilderness therapy kayak trips. The teens that go have not kayaked before and move very slowly, so we always go to the same few campsites on Florida Bay and the Gulf of Mexico. Checking the weather forecasts on my marine radio, I would often hear the location of the Gulf Stream as part of the broadcast. It is defined, in part, in relation to the Dry Tortugas. Over the years the Tortugas have become a sort of mythical place for me. I know they exist — they are a National Park after all — but they seem far away, exotic and, above all, they are out of reach for a van trip from Illinois with teens.

This year I decided to go two weeks in advance of Omni’s Spring Break trip and explore the parts of the Everglades I never get to see and, hallelujah, go to the Dry Tortugas (here after the “DT”). The plan was to go with my friend Patty, driving my car from Chicago, with Patty driving back alone after leaving me in the Everglades to meet up with Omni.

Our itinerary was a little odd because we could only get ferry reservations for the DT in the middle of our trip. We decided to paddle my familiar territory of Florida Bay and the Gulf of Mexico for three nights (since Patty had never been there) and then go to Key West to catch the DT ferry, spend three nights in DT and then drive back to Flamingo and spend a few nights in Whitewater Bay, where I have never been.

Paddling in The Everglades, Cape Sable

I have always gone through the park entrance to Flamingo. There is another major entry at Everglades City, but I wanted to see more of where I had always gone, so we stuck with Flamingo.

It is about a 24-hour drive from Chicago, depending on routes. I refuse to pay the high cost of the Florida Turnpike tolls, so I drive through Atlanta to Naples to the Tamiami Trail (Route 41 aka Alligator Alley) to just south of Miami and then to Homestead.

Homestead/Florida City is just outside the park. There are large stores and it’s a good place to stock up on food. The marina store by the visitor’s center at Flamingo has a few food items, but it’s not the place to provision a kayak trip. On the way into the park from Homestead is Robert is Here, the fruitstand-without-equal. They make milkshakes with the fruit they sell. They have a zoo. They sell rubber alligators. A mandatory stop.

Once you enter the park, the Flamingo campground and visitor center is about a 45 minute drive. The campground is gigantic but there are walk-in sites, so you can get away from the land yachts if you wish. Solar-heated hot showers make spending at least the first night there a good idea.

There are two types of remote sites in the Everglades: land-based and chickees. A chickee is not connected to poultry in any way. It is a platform on stilts with a roof and a chemical toilet. Some are single, and some are double. The smaller ones are ten feet by ten feet, large enough for three two-man tents. If you use a chickee, be sure your tent is freestanding. Chickees have ladders, so when the tide changes, you can still launch and land. But low tides make loading and unloading a bit tricky. It’s worth bringing a net bag to help with schlepping stuff from boat to platform and back.

The land-based campsites are mostly on shell beaches. Spring is windy, so having a deadman way of anchoring the tent is a good idea.

After recuperating from the drive by staying at Flamingo the first night, we got our permits and headed out. We paddled for almost seven hours (against the tide most of the way) to get to Northwest Cape, the furthest of the Cape Sable beach campsites. There are two places from which to launch for the open water: the marina and the campground. The campground launch is not a formal one and is not accessible at lower tides, so we launched from the marina.

Cape Sable is the southernmost mainland place in the United States. It has three huge beaches: East Cape, Middle Cape and Northwest Cape. I’d been to East and Middle, so Patty and I went to NW Cape. It is a sandy beach, like the others, but a bit more overgrown. The westernmost end has dildo cactuses (look it up, that is its name) and Gumbo Limbo trees, neither of which exist on the other Cape beaches as far as I know. The Gumbo Limbo is a neat-looking tree, having reddish bark that constantly peels. Hence its nickname: the Tourist Tree. (Get it? Turns red and peels)

We saw the usual bird life — pelicans, gulls, terns, cormorants, scissor-tailed flycatchers, roseate spoonbills, white ibis, stork — but nothing unusual. Migration had already started, so we saw huge flocks of shore birds and white pelicans landing on the beach to rest up after crossing the Gulf. Never a dull moment. Dolphins made a few appearances as well.

After spending two nights at NW Cape we paddled to East Cape, spent the night there and then headed back to Flamingo. We showered and hopped in the car to drive to Key West for the DT leg of the trip.

The Dry Tortugas

I could spend a very long time singing the praises of this amazing place. To get there one must take the ferry, take a private boat, or fly on a sea plane. The ferry leaves daily from Key West. Most people stay the day and come back. On our outbound trip, there were three sets of campers. The ferry (I never quite understood why) requires a return booking before you leave Key West and they only allow three nights of camping in the DT. The ferry will take kayaks, but only up to 15 feet long. At least that’s what they tell you.

Patty and I had originally planned to take our Feathercraft folding kayaks for this trip. Patty thought I had two Feathercrafts and she would use one of mine, so she did not bring hers. I do have two Feathercrafts, but one is a double. So we decided to take my Explorer, the Feathercraft single and my old-school whitewater boat, a Perception Sabre. It’s small enough for the ferry (11 feet long) and fast enough I would have no trouble keeping up.

If you rent a ferry-legal kayak from a guy named Mike in Key West, he will drop it off at the ferry and pick it up again whenever you return. He rents 16 foot sit on tops that can be paddled by one or two people. Once we realized how long it was, we left my Feathercraft assembled for the voyage back. The place the ferry puts kayaks in is about 20 feet long, so the 16.5 foot Feathercraft fit easily.

Camping at the DT is weird. You have to stay on the ferry when it docks and listen to a lecture by the ranger. There is no water available, so everyone must bring their own. A gallon per day per person is suggested. The campsites are near one of the two snorkeling beaches. Each site has a picnic table, and some have a little shade. The ferry does not allow any cooking fuel other than self-starting charcoal or Sterno.  Nothing else. Each campsite has a grill and a post for hanging food to keep it from the rats.

There are nice composting toilets by the camping area but they cannot sustain heavy use, so they are closed when the ferry is docked. You guessed it — you use the ferry’s toilets until it leaves and then the composters are opened. So, you can go on the ferry and drink all the water you want during the day. You can even buy lunch and alcoholic drinks on it. Wilderness camping with flush toilets and a bar! The ferry also has freshwater rinse showers for apres-snorkeling.

The main island, Garden Key, is mostly taken up by Fort Jefferson. The fort is huge. Building started in 1846. The original plan was for the fort to hold four hundred guns. The parade ground is eight acres. One could spend a couple of days just exploring the fort. It was used as a prison, holding some of the Lincoln conspirators, including the famous Dr. Mudd. Tours are given by ferry staff (who really know the history of the fort) every afternoon.

The other attraction here, if you are not a bird watcher, is snorkeling. Two beaches allow you to find a spot that is not windswept. Corals and fish are in knee-deep water. You don’t even have to use a snorkel. Masks, snorkels and fins are provided free by the ferry as part of your voyage.

Spring in the DT means bird watching. A number of birds exist there that are found nowhere else in the US. My favorites are the Magnificent Frigate Birds. They’re very large, black and fly and soar effortlessly. One end of the DT park, which is called Bush Key, is a nesting area, so it is off limits for people. Flying around Bush Key, when we were there, were frigate birds, brown noddys, and sooty terns, all circling the nesting areas and making a loud racket 24 hours a day. Masked boobies (which nest on one of the smaller keys there), skimmers, terns, gulls, and all the songbirds that migrate through make birding a full-time possibility. There’s even a resident owl that leaves dead rats on the parade ground. Half the campers were bird watchers when we were there. They were fun to talk to and gave us a lot of info about the birds we were seeing.

The day we arrived in the DT we set up our tents, put the Feathercraft together and circumnavigated Garden Key. The Park Service brochure on kayaking says this trip should take a few hours. It took us 50 minutes.

Loggerhead Key is 3 miles away. It has a large lighthouse and beaches and a perfect snorkeling spot on the back side. The trip over goes through shallow water and deep, so paddling in wind can be an adventure. Our first trip over was in high winds, so we had some fun with the waves. We paddled over with Eric and his son Taylor who were on a sit-on-top. They made it with no trouble, although it took three times longer to get back than to get out, due to the winds. Eric knows birds and is a great storyteller. He made it a fun trip.

On Loggerhead, we snorkeled in thigh-deep water. It was amazing to me, who doesn’t like being under water, that the corals and anemones and fish would be right here in such shallow water. I didn’t really need the snorkel.

The next day Patty and I paddled over to Loggerhead alone. The waves were significant, with the wind being a constant 15 knots with lots of bigger gusts. We hunted for some of the shipwrecks that “you can’t miss” but managed to miss them. We saw a few dolphins and had a good workout.

Cooking with Sterno (or charcoal) is really slow, so we had a lot of time to just sit and wait for water to boil. While sitting on the ground before dinner on the second night (it was too windy to sit on the picnic table with the stove) Patty got a real fright. She saw what she thought was a giant spider walking right at her. It turns out it was the biggest hermit crab I had ever seen. They were everywhere that night.

Paddling the Everglades, Whitewater Bay

After returning to the Everglades, we set out for Whitewater Bay, a huge shallow inland tidal area that can be accessed from many different points, including Everglades City, a week’s worth of paddling away. We entered from the marina at Flamingo. This marina has access both to Florida Bay and to the Buttonwood Canal, which goes to Whitewater Bay and beyond. A dam separates the two bodies of water, with the marina on both sides of the dam. Our destination was the North River chickee. It was only 12 miles so we didn’t rush. What we didn’t plan for was my weak navigational skills. We got within a half mile of the chickee and couldn’t find it. I resorted to my GPS but we could not find the chickee in the tangle of mangroves we were in. We gave up and headed for the Watson chickee, four miles away, hoping to find it in the two hours before sunset. After an hour and a half of wandering through dead ends and blind channels, I said “People who are lost go in circles. I’m checking the GPS.” Sure enough, we were four tenths of a mile from the North River chickee. I dug out an old map that had the GPS coordinates of the chickee. They were different from those I had put into my GPS. Not much, but enough. With the new coordinates we found the chickee in about 20 minutes and managed to get the tents up and dinner made before dark.

Oddly, we heard people talking late into the night. We guessed it might be fisherman spending the night on their boat. Next morning, we learned it was six canoes full of Outward Bound participants who paddled up and asked to use the toilet attached to the chickee. They were on a 40 day (!) expedition and were expecting a resupply that morning. They had planks that they put across the rafted canoes to sleep on. No tents in the mosquito and noseeum capital of the US. To offset the lack of a quiet morning, we had a dolphin swim right under us while were talking to them.

From there we went to the Oyster Bay chickee, successfully determining to navigate by compass alone. The Oyster Bay chickee is a double, one platform being ten by ten feet and the other ten by twelve. We knew from the log book when we got our permits that someone else would be there. We took the larger platform and, strangely, the other party never showed up. No Outward Bounders made an appearance, but tons of dolphins did. We had been taking precautions against the ubiquitous Everglades raccoons by hanging our food and using a bear barrel. Thinking we were safe on the chickee, we left everything on the platform. The next morning we saw a nylon bag had been chewed through, the bagel bag inside it was chewed through and a hunk of onion bagel was gone. The villains were little black crabs.

Our next stop was the ground site at Graveyard Creek, right on the Gulf of Mexico. The ranger who gave us our permits, Ann, who I have seen every year for fifteen years, said she had never issued a permit for Graveyard before because the noseeums were so bad there. We had some trouble with them, but I’ve seen worse. We brought a screen tent for cooking and eating in the presence of bugs, so we managed quite well. The nice part of the site was double chemical toilets and a picnic table.

On the paddle over to Graveyard we saw more dolphins, our third loggerhead turtle of the trip and a Ridley’s turtle, which swam right at us until the last second, when it dove under the boats.

We arrived at the site pretty early in the day, so we paddled up Graveyard Creek, looking for the dolphins we had seen swimming upstream. After a while we came back into the Gulf and saw the best dolphin show yet. The tide was changing and the fish from the creek were being pushed into the gulf. The dolphins were waiting. We saw one chase a fish so fast that the dolphin ended up high and dry on the shore and had to flop around to get itself back in the water. Dolphins were swimming in such shallow water that their backs were exposed.

At 2 AM that night, we heard voices. Patty said later she was sure it was the ghosts of Graveyard. Worse! It was the same Outward Bounders we had seen before. They were singing and laughing as they approached. Once again, in the morning, they used the toilets. And apologized for waking us up. They were told no one ever camps at Graveyard.

From Graveyard we paddled to Middle Cape and spent our last night on the Gulf. More dolphins and a nice sunset made a nice finale. In the morning, we noticed a large crocodile trail right past our boats. Crocodiles can process salt water in their bodies and alligators can’t, so you know it’s a croc when you are on salt water. In between, such as on Buttonwood canal, you see both. Alligators look black, crocs look dark green. Alligators are nonchalant about kayaks, crocs are terrified of them.

On our way to Flamingo, we paddled into the Middle Cape Canal, through Lake Ingraham behind East Cape for a change of scenery, came back to the Gulf through the East Cape Canal and then on to the marina. Calling home (finally back to cell reception civilization), I learned that Omni had cancelled their trip. Patty and I decided to stay another couple of days.

Paddling the Everglades, Nine Mile Pond

There are a number of inland paddling spots in the Everglades. On the Flamingo side, West Lake and Nine Mile Pond (named for its distance from the old visitor’s center) are two nice ones. Nine Mile’s paddling trail goes through some mangrove tunnels and is loaded with alligators. We had to shoo a stubborn one out of our path at one point in the mangroves.

The Park Service has a handout that gives a lot of information about what there is to see on the trail. There are numbered poles throughout the trail, so you won’t get lost (I didn’t even get lost!) and you know when to look for the stuff listed in the handout.

We had an awful lot of very shallow water here. It’s a good idea to check with the rangers about water levels before doing this trail because it is not tidal. But I like Nine Mile because it gives a feel for a very different part of the Everglades from the coastal areas. The tunnels are so tight that you often scare up wildlife (birds mostly) just before running into them. And the mangroves provide shelter from the constant winds of Spring.

If you plan to paddle the Everglades, a good reference is The Paddler’s Guide to the Everglades National Park by Johnny Molloy.

Kayak Spring Break on Tybee

by Stave Landers

 

A group of ten paddlers from Prairie Coast Paddlers (and CASKA) recently went to Tybee Island, Georgia for a week of paddling in the Atlantic and intercoastal waters. Along with was Christopher Lockyer, a 5-star coach from Halifax, Nova Scotia. Chris was able to fill in on short notice when Geneva Kayak's Ryan Rushton wasn't able to go, as originally planned. I guess he had someone who was supposed to run a snowshoe weekend for him cancel and he had to do that trip instead. Chris proved to be more than capable and fit in with the group quite easily. I'm sure we wouldn't hesitate working with him again.

 

 

Bill and Sarah did most of the legwork putting the trip together, arranging for lodging, carpooling, buying the groceries, getting money from everyone, and the countless other things that have to be done putting a trip like this together. Kudos to them for a job well done.

 

 

Also along were Dan Leigh, Marian Chase, Nate Strong (from Kalamazoo), Doug Thomas, Harriet Krup, John Gabris, Kristine and myself. Doug and Harriet paddled the week prior to Tybee down in alligator swampland, so they drove up from there. Nate drove with Sarah and they picked Chris up from the airport in Atlanta. Chris caught the only plane out of Nova Scotia that day because of snowstorms. He had similar luck on his return trip, having to stay an extended time in Toronto. Kristine and I drove together, staying in Nashville before and after the trip. We paddled Percy Priest Lake one day, it's sort of a typical reservoir, much like Lake Shelbyville, Carlyle, and Rend here in Illinois. The remainder of the group drove together in Bill's F-150. He also towed most of the boats using a trailer borrowed from Dave Kaknes. Dave and his wife were forced to cancel going because of illness in the family. He was nice enough to let Bill borrow the trailer.

 

 

The week at Tybee is pretty much a blur to me. We paddled every day, about equally in the backwater marsh and river areas, and on the ocean. I don't think total mileage for the week was over thirty miles. The longest trek of the trip was just under sixteen when we paddled from Savannah through a series of interconnecting rivers to the south side of Tybee Island, just blocks from the two story rental house where we were staying. On this particular day we worked on navigation, and everyone took turns leading the group....although a couple of us might have been off a ways ahead of the group some of the time. Guilty.

 

Everyday Chris put together a lesson, or lessons, to work on for the day. This surprised me. I had thought going there that it was going to be totally unstructured. It worked out for the best having a plan for the day and he was quite flexible about what we could work on. We were also encouraged to pick his brains on whatever we chose. He was totally flexible and accommodating. I think his instruction was very valuable and benefitted everyone. Throughout the week we worked on strokes, paddling in surf, navigation, forward paddling with video analysis, surfing, tidal cycles, and a myriad of other things. I think everyone had different things that they took out of the week, and different favorite days. I know that Kris and I differed in the days we each considered the best. My favorite day was Wednesday, Feb. 13, when we had a few hours to play in the surf. We had 4-5 foot waves for a few hours before they died off. There were quite a few surfers out that day as well.

 

Speaking of that day, I learned a valuable lesson, and I'm not sure many people other than Bill and I know what that was. We had eight of us surfing that morning, which included Chris. Waves, like I said were 4-5, the good ones anyway. The group was fairly spread out along the beach area, to the north of the pier on Christopher's recommendation that we avoid a rip tide area and another area where the ebbing tide would take us out to sea if we ventured too far south. The areas where the best waves were occurring was constantly shifting. Bill and I had paddled a little farther south, towards the pier, in an effort to catch better waves, which we were able to do.

 

Bill and I were together, waiting to catch a wave, sitting maybe a hundred yards or so offshore. These ocean waves were different than Lake Michigan waves, they were harder to catch for some reason. You had to not just sit and wait for a wave, but had to be paddling in and have some momentum, and then paddle like hell to catch the wave as a good one approached, not just sit there and immediately try to catch a wave. At least that was my experience with Big Red. As Bill and I waited, he took off and caught a good wave and surfed in. I caught the next wave, about 4-5 seconds behind his, and also was able to surf in. Towards the end of his ride Bill capsized, rolled, uprighted himself and began paddling -- opposite to the direction that we normally were breaking off the waves. He told me this afterwards, I was concentrating on my wave, staying upright and wasn't watching what was going on with him. (Hmmmm, maybe this is why he hasn't written a trip report yet, he wanted to see my confession in print).

 

Just as Bill had uprighted himself, along I came and T-boned his kayak, sliding up on his front deck, at least three-four feet from the front of my kayak, and only two feet from where he sat. I don't know who was more shocked. Judging by the look on his face I'd say Bill was. After some maneuvering we were able to disengage the kayaks and paddle off. Bill's boat has some new scratches on the front deck. Fortunately that was all that it had, it could have been a serious accident if I had speared him. What I should have done, and I know this because it's been taught to me, was to dump immediately when I saw Bill crossing in front of me. I know that if you hit someone coming in it's your fault no matter what. I can't explain why I didn't, it happened too fast, I wasn't keeping an eye out for him, I misjudged our paths...not sure. The most important thing was that I should've waited a longer interval before trying to catch a wave behind him.

 

The accommodations that we had on Tybee were quite nice. There were five bedrooms, three baths. Breakfasts and dinners, all but one, were cooked at the house. We ate well. Everyone took turns cooking, cleaning, helping out, making coffee, and the like. Harriet, who is a wonderful cook, was the kitchen manager for the week, assigning a cooking schedule and tasks for everyone. No one was hesitant in offering to help. Thursday night we ate at AJ's, which was just up the block from the house.

 

I think everyone had a really good time. The group got along very well together. I can't wait to do it again! Where are we going next year?

Baja Winter Kayak Expedition: Wind, Waves, and Lipstick

By Mary Fairchild

  

 

The road-less coastline and offshore islands between Loreto and La Paz have made Baja a world class kayak destination. Our trip began at the La Paz airport where we all met our coach Paul Redzimski from the Geneva Kayak Center of Yorkville, Illinois. Our group consisted of four women: Sue Gjerset, from Minnesota, who drove to my home to fly from Chicago with me, Marybeth Dunne, from Chicago, and Allison Schroeder who is from Alaska.

 

Winds and oceanic currents control the climate, water, and shorelines of Baja where only the more durable rock that is resistant enough to erosion remains and forms the islands.   The heating of the hot desert and the cooling of the cold ocean water create predictable daily wind patterns which usually increase in the afternoon and are usually from the land.

El Norte is a strong wind that periodically gallops down the coastline of the Sea of Cortez like a runaway bull. (4)

 From December to March the winter northerlies, which are the strongest winds and are called “El Norte,” come up very quickly at sea. The worst winter wind storms make paddling impossible for three days at a stretch. In the desert they can cover a truck with sand in less than an hour. (1)
 

 

Paul shuttled us north from La Paz to the little seaside fishing village of Loreto where our expedition would begin the following morning after meeting up with Ginni Callahan of Sea Kayak Baja and her local guide, Ramon Elias Arce Espinoza, who would be accompanying us. Sea Kayak Baja not only provided us with local knowledge, but nice equipment including NDK fiberglass boats and carbon paddles.
 
 On our first day we had a few hours in the morning to walk around the town to see the sights and have breakfast together in a local restaurant where I enjoyed dining with a local Chihuahua that sat near our table while I caught up on the local news in the “Gringo Gazette.” 

Downtown Loreto

Our hotel, the La Damiana Inn, a historic casa, was built in the 1930s for the family of a Mexican army general who was transferred to Loreto. Located directly across the street from Sea Kayak Baja, La Damaina Inn has a charming outdoor kitchen, patio and garden area where we enjoyed morning coffee and an evening glass of wine together.  

Ramon, Allison, Paul, Mary, Marybeth, Sue.

We had a short and leisurely paddle from the Bay of Loreto up to Isla Coronados on our first day.  Within the first half hour of our paddle we could see the water was clouded with tiny plankton.  Fish, plankton and other nutrients are mixed around creating what is the known as the richest body of water on the planet here.  The nutrients are affected by different currents and movements throughout the sea which keeps the fish populations well fed. 

 
The Sea of Cortez is too small to have much of a real lunar tide of its own, but the sea does produce a very strong tidal flow.  The lunar tides of the Pacific cause strong currents in the sea which actually occur as a lifting motion.  The speed of these currents is determined in part by the width of the shore, the depth of the water, and the contour of the bottom.  The long narrow shape of the gulf creates a dramatic effect on the northern Cortez where two highs and two lows race with impressive speed each day.  A funnel-like effect can be caused also, depending on the bottom and the currents. 

The waters around Loreto and the beaches of its nearby islands are part of the Loreto Bay National Marine Park.  The Park was established by the federal government in 1996 to help preserve the area biosphere.  There are concerns today as tourism and populations increase, as to how there can be significant development allowed around the shores of a marine park when there is a symbiotic relationship between the land and the water.  A big push was made to get commercial fishing trawlers out of the area; it was successful for awhile, but the directive isn't always obeyed. 

 

 

Los Metate; Isla Coronados.

 
The shoreline at our first campsite on Isla Coronados was a gorgeous aqua-marine blue and very shallow with white sand and it seemed like a perfect protected spot to explore.  Our local guide, Ramon, thought I could find starfish by the volcanic boulders that bordered our campsite.  I stayed back to explore while everyone else began emptying their boats to set up camp.  Soon, I spotted black crabs scrambling across the boulders and then some beautiful red colored ones that are called Sally Lightfoot crabs. It wasn’t long before I found the starfish, too!  What a great first campsite. 

 

Sally Lightfoot crab perched on volcanic rocks;  Isla Coronados.

Isla Coronados has a 500' volcano.  There are low beaches on the SW corner to large rock formations on the steep northern end.  On calm days you can park on the rocks on the outside of the island and go snorkeling. 

 

Gulf of California Expedition:  Last February researchers from the Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute began three months of study of the active volcanic region near the mouth of the gulf called the Alarcon Rise.  Volcanic "spreading centers" such as the Alarcon Rise in the Sea of Cortez are hotbeds of volcanic activity where underwater volcanoes spread lava across the seafloor and hydrothermal vents spout out water heated by magma beneath the seafloor to over 550 degrees Fahrenheit.  The hydrothermal vents transport heat and chemicals into the ocean, providing an energy source that supports a large community of sea organisms, many of which are not found anywhere else.  MBARI’s flagship research vessel, Western Flyer, was named after the boat that writer John Steinbeck and marine biologist Ed Ricketts used for a groundbreaking expedition to the gulf in 1940. Their journey of scientific discovery and adventure is recorded in the book The Log from the Sea of Cortez.  

When I hiked over to the west end of the beach of Los Metate I discovered a lot of dried-up heads of hammer-head sharks, trigger fish, and manta rays. There was what looked to be a fish camp there and, sure enough, later that night a fishing boat came up and camped there. After bringing a few of the interesting dried “teethed- specimens” over for the group to see we all began to lay out our tarps and sleeping bags on the beach for the night. Just as we were about settled, there where spouting noises echoing across our small bay as about a dozen large dolphins began to jump and entertain us. We sat on our tarps and enjoyed the show! 

After a quick hike we had fresh sea bass for dinner and then settled in our sleeping bags for the night.  A strong wind began to pick up—even in our protected bay.  We decided to turn our kayaks sideways and lay beside them for some protection.

Paul Redzimski; Isla Coronados.

On our second day, after amazing breakfast burritos made with pan-fried local tortillas, Chihuahua cheese, and hot sauce, we headed around the north end of the island and the marine report had a west wind in our favor so we didn’t mind that it was to be 15kts+. The north end is the surf exposed end of the island where conflicting currents create confused seas. We leisurely enjoyed the sights as we first headed around the north end. First, Allison spotted a large sea turtle. Then, near the northeast corner of the island there was a sea lion rookery.

“The shallow Carmen channel gets active in a wind.”(2, p. 160.)

After our sight-seeing had ended on Isla Coronados, we began to prepare to make our crossing which led to Isla Carmen.  It was the first of what would be many discrepancies in the marine forecasts.  A steady southwest wind gusting to 15+mph was surprisingly funneling up the channel between Isla Coronado and Isla Carmen creating 3-4’ beam seas with occasional whitecaps and 5’ waves.  Whitecaps usually appear sooner on saltwater, but as a rule they usually appear with wind above 15kts. 

We paired up for the crossing and I teamed up with Sue.  Occasionally we would lose sight of each other behind the seas.  It was really fun to put to practice paddling in a beam sea for us.  We had been working on refining our strokes and this was a good test because we needed to find our range and hang in there for sustained wind gusts for seven nautical miles.  My mantra was “paddle, paddle-rudder…. paddle, paddle-rudder…”  I took down my upwind leg and pressed up with the other knee to keep the perfect boat lean into the waves.  The key is to always lean into the waves for stability.

About half way through the crossing we began to spot dolphins surrounding and circling us.  It was really fun to be paddling along with them. 

We had four campsites on the mountainous Isla Carmen. The 19-mile-long island is privately owned, at least in part by the salt company that built the small town on its east side and mined the flats there. Isla Carmen's long north end is comprised of three distinct points: Puntas, Cholla, Tintorera, and Lobos. These points and the distance between them create a potential navigational hazard if the weather comes from the north. (2, p. 160.)

Marybeth Dunne and Allison Schroeder. Playas Salinas; Isla Carmen.

After our third night of continual winds often coming from all directions we just prepared for it the best we could usually by bundling up and sometimes retreating to our sleeping bags to warm up.  Throughout the night wind gusts would swirl around our faces and we often totally tucked our heads in.  Nothing would block the wind.  While paddling we knew to expect only rare breaks from the wind that would not last long.  We had chap lips early on in the trip and I found keeping a bandana around my neck was the best way to wipe my continually watery eyes.  Whatever we needed to wash out or dry did not take long in the wind at camp, too.  We only had a brief issue with dew on our sleeping bags when there was a slight break in the overnight wind--but, by the time we had to pack the morning wind and sun sufficiently dried everything again. 

Typically, you will first notice huge blasts of wind in the middle of the night that announce the arrival of El Norte.  These winds roar down the middle of the Sea of Cortez.

Scouting from a cliff to see if it was a "no go" morning; Isla Carmen.

Weather and local conditions, more than your experience level in kayaking, usually determines the difficulty of a route. Most important is your decision to stay on land or go. Our group decided to reverse the direction of our route to avoid up wind paddling as much as possible.

According to a local wind surfing website, the strong El Norte wind patterns pack gusty winds in the 20-30 kt. range every several weeks in winter.  These winds occur after a storm passes over California and high pressure that follows the storm settles for a day or two in the four corners (where all the square states meet in the US).  This creates a strong pressure gradient from the four corners to low pressure south of Baja.  This high pressure is strongest at night when the frigid airs of the four corners strengthen the high pressure.  Typically, you will first notice huge blasts of wind in the middle of the night that announce the arrival of El Norte.  These winds roar down the middle of the Sea of Cortez.  A lot of the force of El Norte is from winds just aloft that make the surface wind up and down.  Sometimes the wind just aloft is NNW which tends to blow the El Norte surface wind away from shore.  This often means on and off wind at the beaches. (4)

Sue Gjerset demonstrates her speed launch; Punta Baja Norte.

Punta Baja Norte, our last campsite on Isla Carmen, was the most sheltered and the warmest.  We actually got hot in the mid-day sun and played and practiced rolls and rescues that day until the wind started up again.  In the morning we had a fairly calm crossing over to Isla Danzante. 

Ramon had a nice little nook off the kitchen area on Punta Baja Norte.

 

Many of us heard it, but Ramon was the only one to see the tail of a whale as we made our crossing from Isla Carmen to Isla Danzante.  From January to March pregnant California Gray whales give birth and nurture their young in the warm waters of the Sea of Cortez before returning to the Bering Sea.

Portions of the Sea of Cortez are also recognized as important nursery areas for great white sharks.  According to the publisher of Baja Life Magazine, however, the local fishermen have been targeting them for their fins and jaws.  He reported last April that 13 large sharks had been killed in just a few weeks alone.  Shark jaws are sold locally for about $1,500 per set, then re-sold by more entrepeneurial types and some fishermen north of Loreto use baited hooks beneath air-filled barrels which tire and drown the sharks before they take them to shore.  The popular dive spot about 40 miles north of Loreto off Isla Ildefonso is said to be a popular fishing spot.   

 



This past December there was a celebration of the tagging and study of the life history of 4 female Guadalupe white sharks.  All 4 sharks gave their full two year migratory routes, identifying when and where they breed, where they feed and where they give birth.  Now there is a concern to push for added protection of the white sharks in the Sea of Cortez and the rest of Mexico where they are under a lot of pressure. (5)

Surfers, swimmers, snorkelers, spearfishermen even a stand-up paddler have all fallen victim to shark attacks in the past year. Randy Honebrink, a DLNR shark expert, reported that there is definitely more bites this year than any other year he's seen.  We don't know a lot about the great whites yet, but generally, sharks are a negligible danger when you are boating or diving.  Spear-fishing is dangerous because shark hone in on prey using sound, smell, and vision.  They are attracted by rythmic vibrations such as those by a fish struggling on a spear--possibly a kayaker's paddling or movements to re-enter their boat.  Sharks are also very sensitive to blood trails--perhaps even a women's menstrual cycle--that is carried by tidal currents.  Visually they are excited by a thrashing or helpless fish. 

Surfer Magazine, May 2012:  “I’ve been surfing here for 19 years now, and ...something just doesn’t feel right here anymore,” says Marais. “We are interfering way too much with the great whites, with chumming the waters and cage diving, and I believe this may be causing the sharks to behave unnaturally.”  ...False Bay and nearby Gansbaai are home to one of the largest great white populations in the world, thanks to the booming seal population there. Currently, there are 11 licensed shark cage diving businesses operating within this 60-mile stretch, with another two operators in Mossel Bay, a small coastal town a couple hundred miles away. Operators use a bloody mixture of sardines, tuna heads and fish oil to lure sharks closer to their boats so tourists can observe them from a cage lowered into the water.  Anti-chummers have long maintained that this encourages an unnatural association between sharks, humans, and the promise of food, altering the behavior of sharks and leading to more shark-human interaction. On the other hand, local shark scientists and operators refute this, claiming the amounts of chum are so small they are negligible and that no significant conditioning takes place.

While cage diving in Australia is confined to the remote Neptune Islands, False Bay sits in the middle of Cape Town, the second largest city in South Africa with a population of 3.5 million. A week before the attack on Lilienfeld, authorities granted an additional permit to the reality show Sharkmen, led by the controversial Chris Fischer, to conduct shark-tagging research aboard the Ocearch vessel. The research entailed great whites being hooked, sedated, hauled out of the water, measured and sampled, then tagged with electronic transmitters and released again. The Ocearch permit allowed for five tons of chum to be used over a 20-day period between False Bay and Gansbaai. The official daily chum limit is usually 55 pounds per operator. The Ocearch permit sparked public outrage after Dr. Dirk Schmidt, a wildlife photographer and author of the renowned book White Sharks, questioned why the public weren’t informed or consulted.... While authorities continue to assure the public their concerns are unfounded (while excluding them from any decision making process), many surfers remain unconvinced. As lifelong False Bay local, Philip Nel says “The question that I will mull over while driving to Caves next time is not if, but to what extent the cage diving industry have already conditioned our shark population’s behavior.” Surf Magazine 

 

There is a pleasant sense of wonder when you take in the natural world and realize how much you do not know.  It is so easy to give into mystical thinking when you realize how vast the expanse is of things yet unsolved.

At one time the Baja peninsula was thought to be an island where, according to legend, gold and pearls were controlled by Amazon women and men were only used for procreation.  After conquering Mexico, Hernan Cortez set out to conquer this island but was unsuccessful. 

When early missionaries to Baja inquired about the cave paintings in the area, the native people answered that they were painted by an ancient race of giants... 

Just prior to his travels in the Sea of Cortez, novelist John Steinbeck wrote "The Grapes of Wrath" which portrayed the farm families from western Oklahoma who went to California in search of jobs. Most families, however, did not experience the hardships that he presented in his novel. Although the Hollywood movie version was an attempt at showing the sufferings of the "typical" American, it backfired. Rather than believing that free enterprise in America had failed, Russians left thier theaters envious of the poor Okies because they all had cars and trucks. Far from being starving refugees, the Okies even had money or found work along the way to pay for the gas needed on their long trip to California.

As you paddle and explore in the unique beauty of Baja, you will be infused with awe and have the opportunity to learn more about the world.  Stay thirsty my friend....

Mfairlady

References/Related

1. Romano-Lax, Andromeda; Sea Kayaking In Baja; 1995.
2. Eckardt, Dave; The Guide to Baja Sea Kayaking; 2008.
3. Washburne, Randel; The Coastal Kayaker’s Manual; 1998.
4. Wind and Weather and Some Baja Rules;  I Wind Surf.com 
5. Expert Reveals Reasons Behind Recent Shark Attacks, Brianne Randle, 12/5/12.
6. Surfer Injured in Shark Attack on Oahu's North Shore; Brianne Randle, 4/3/13. 
7.  Great White Shark Circles Fishing Boat Off Oahu, Hawaii.  Huffington Post, 1/14/12
8. Hawaii Shark Encounters
9. Shark attacks in Hawaii may be on the increase because of spear fishermen 
10.  Encountering Predators While Kayaking, Athena Holty.  Topkayaker.net  
11.  Woman Recovers From Latest Shark Attack off Hawaiian Islands   

Turtle Flambeau Flowage Trip

Pat Lutch, my wife Beverly and I did a kayak camping trip on one of the many islands in the Turtle Flambeau Flowage near Mercer, WI.

The flowage is located at the dammed confluence of the Turtle and Flambeau rivers. There are about 40 campsites located on the 25 islands and along the shore line on about 30 square miles of water and woods. Each island has a fire ring, pit toilet (located remotely in the woods), and many have picnic tables.

After Labor Day, this vast, beautiful, wooded area is quiet, and relatively deserted, with the exception of a few fishermen. The paddling is easy with lots of areas to explore. Navigation is aided by experience with a map and compass.

We left Chicago on Thursday, September 6^th, stayed overnight at the Indianhead Motel in Ironwood, launched into the flowage the next morning from Fisherman's Landing. We paddled around for a couple of hours until we found an island with a campsite (with picnic table) that was acceptable to all three and set up camp. The remainder of Friday and Saturday and Sunday were spent doing some paddling in the flowage among a lot of warm and gentle rain. The campsite was dry with two dry tents and a tarp over the picnic table. Pat and Beverly were prepared for the rain, Pat with a dry suit and Beverly with good rain gear. I was not well prepared, having left my dry suit at home, and I spent a very damp weekend and was a damper on paddling in the rain.

Pat returned to Chicago on Sunday afternoon, while Beverly and I paddled some more, visited with my cousin in Ironwood and returned to Chicago on Monday.

 

Beverly Serrell and Jim Des Jardins

WISCONSIN RIVER TRIP REPORT

 

Five of us--Beverly Serrell and Nancy Saulsbury in a canoe, and Nancy Moore, John Olson and Jim Des Jardins in kayaks--did a kayak/canoe camping trip on the Wisconsin River on the weekend starting Friday afternoon, June 29^th, arriving about noon on Sunday, July 2^nd.

 

 

 

It was a very relaxing paddle of about 30 miles from the town of Boscobel to Wyalusing State Park on the Mississippi River around the corner from the junction of the Wisconsin and Mississippi Rivers. 

 

 

Friday and Saturday nights, we camped on sand bar islands in the river.  This is the more remote part of the Lower Wisconsin River with high bluffs as we approached the Mississippi. We generally had the river to ourselves, with the exception of Sunday morning when there were other groups of paddlers nearby.

 

 

 

The days were beautiful and hot with a light breeze. Our first trip on the Wisconsin River without rain, ever. We drank lots of water and Gatorade for relief from the heat.  But, after setting up camp, we cooled off in the shade of the "wing" and by sitting in the river.  It felt like heaven. In fact, it felt so good that we did multiple spells in the river Saturday afternoon and evening.  After a hot day of paddling, nothing approaches the feeling of sitting in a flowing river with water up to your neck.

 

 

 

Mealtimes were communal. Traveling with four good cooks was great. Although the canoe was a little slow, it carried the coolers and made meals a joy.  There were after-paddle gin-and-tonics with ice, cold beer, and loads of food. Gone was Jim's usual camping fare of freeze-dried dinners. We celebrated Nancy Saulsbury's birthday on Sunday.

 

 

 

Some of the creatures we saw were sand hill cranes, bald eagles, great blue herons, Canada geese, spotted sandpipers, banded kingfisher, some little brown birds and a swimming Western fox snake. Many footprints of raccoons and deer.

 

A great time was had by all.

 

Jim Des Jardins and Beverly Serrell

 

GKC Alaska L4 Training and Expedition

by Steve Landers

Even though the temperature was only in the low sixties, I was soaked in sweat from carrying kayaks, gear, water, and propane tanks down an incredibly steep, long, rain soaked gang plank that linked the parking lot to the floating docks within the harbor of Homer, Alaska. I remarked to Josh, the water taxi driver who was to take us to our destination for the first four days of our trip, some forty-five miles southwest of Homer on the tip of the Kenai Peninsula, that I was going to be dead before this trip even started. He remarked, "You gotta be careful what you sign up for!"  

Homer Spit

 
What I had signed up for was Geneva Kayak's L4 training in Alaska. Seemed like a good idea last September when I signed up. I wasn't so sure at this point. Along on the trip were veteran CASKA paddlers Sarah Hartman and Ron Laird; GKC's imperial grand pubah, kayaking sensei and CASKA member,  Ryan Rushton; Tom Pogson, owner of Alaska Kayak School in Homer who was providing the kayaks, sprayskirts and paddles for the trip; Mark Anderson, a 4-star worthy instructor who works for Ryan on occasion; and myself. Once the boats and equipment were loaded on the 30-foot boat we headed out. The taxi was propelled with twin 225 horse Honda engines and got us to our initial destination, Chrome Bay, in about two hours.  

Water Taxi Ride

Unloading the Boat

Chrome Bay

Tom is a 5-star instructor and was along on the trip mainly to help us get set up in the yurts that we were staying in for the next four days. Everything ran on propane with the exception of the solar powered bear fence that spanned the perimeter of the property. Designed to keep Yogi's at bay, someone remarked after a couple of days of living within "the wire" that he felt like a cow. 

Fence

Tom

 
The yurts are sort of like large vinyl teepees, oval in shape, built upon treated lumber decks. There were three to sleep in, each with cots, and a common yurt that housed a kitchen and dining room table. If we weren't paddling, or sleeping, the common yurt was where we spent our time.  Much of that time was spent planning out the days ahead, planning on routes, and how to deal with the tides and tidal currents. It was of course, spring tides with the full moon, the water level within Chrome Bay changed by over twenty feet every twelve hours! I say "of course" because, of course, Ryan would schedule the training during the greatest variance of tidal change and flow. There was within one tidal race we experienced a current of five knots. 

Chart work

 
Those first four days went quickly by as we worked on L4 skills, paddling in tidal races, doing day trips among the snow capped mountains and islands that adorned the outer coast of the Kenai Peninsula. At the end of the day Tuesday after paddling to and circumnavigating Perl Island, I remarked to Ryan, "I've been in boats of one kind or another for over fifty years. I can't think of a more memorable day on the water anywhere than the day we had today." A large part of that was because as we rounded the outer side of Perl we came upon a colony of sea lions, probably thirty to forty in number, with two huge bull sea lions clearly upset that we had infiltrated their ranks. It was incredible. On Wednesday we took it easy for the most part, did a lot of chart work, and worked on rescues and stroke refinement within Chrome Bay. I "voluntarily" capsized while grabbing a bit too much water with my paddle while trying to do a sideslip. The forty-three degree water was a bit cool. That was the only capsize of the week for the group, although Sarah got wet frequently while practicing her rolls.

Sea Lions

 

Elizabeth

 
Day five of our excursion had us break camp and head out early with the ebbing tide along the coast and up into Kachemak Bay on our trek back to Homer. On this day we covered about 28 miles, a lot of that into head winds. We set up camp outside of Seldovia in a community campground right off the beach. After dinner and hanging bear bags we were quickly snuggled in our sleeping bags listening to the crashing waves...and the maniacal laughter of some kids driving by in their ATVs...and according to some, my snoring. Exhausted, I was asleep by 8:30pm (about three hours before sunset). 

Seldovia
 
Friday we set off on the final leg of our journey back to Homer. We had about fifteen miles to paddle with a four to five mile crossing across the bay back to the Homer Spit. The last leg proved the most challenging of the week, waves were, according to Ryan, three to five with occasional seven foot dumping waves. Three times on the way back we had to raft up, once to fix a broken foot peg bracket, and twice to reposition and reattach helmets that had slipped off back decks into the water. It's amazing how much drag a helmet can create hanging in the water!
 
That evening we chose to rent a four bedroom house in the foothills of Homer instead of sleeping on the spit in our tents. Ron, Mark, and I were sitting outside on the back deck at one point, enjoying an Alaskan Amber, mesmerized by the beauty of the snow capped mountains and glaciers from as far as the eye could see along Kachemak Bay. I asked Ron, who is an airline pilot and has been all around the world, where, if anywhere, has he been that was more beautiful than here right now. He was silent for a minute and said, "I can't think of any." 

Roughing it in the Cabin
 
Saturday we drove back to Anchorage. Ron, Sarah, and I hopped out at the airport, while Ryan and Mark went on to shop for groceries and supplies for the following week's GKC Alaska trip that Mark was leading. I had more than enough time before my flight to reflect on the week. I couldn't begin to put into words how beautiful Alaska is. I had told Ryan last year, "I know this trip is old hat to you as many times as you've been to Alaska, but for me it's a trip of a lifetime." And it really was.

Anchorage Airport

I was asked what the difference was paddling in Alaska compared to the Great Lakes. That's an easy answer, tide! Everything you do is predicated on the tide. It's much more involved having to factor in whether the tide is coming in or going out, where and how fast the flow of the tide is, dealing with tidal rips and currents, and everything else that comes with tidal kayaking. Timing is crucial. Keeping track of your course and progress is more important. Being able to recognize how the current is affecting the water while you are on the water is another skill that's necessary in tidal areas. I learned a lot in regards to tide, Alaska was the first time that I had paddled on the ocean so it was all an entirely new experience for me. I also learned on the trip that it's a good idea to keep your waterproof tape in your day hatch in case it's needed for on the water repairs, and not only stored in a dry bag packed away. Making sure your helmet is securely attached when it's getting hit by waves is another important consideration. I now know why some people opt to keep their helmets between their legs under the dryskirts. 

Ryan warned me before the trip that once I had been to Alaska that paddling in the Midwest will never be the same. I've been in a daze all week still thinking about it, and I have to admit paddling Tuesday night didn't have quite the same luster. My advice to anyone considering going there, no matter what level trip they're thinking about doing, is to go!

Trip Report on the Galapagos Islands

by Beverly Serrell and Jim Des Jardins

 

Beverly and I joined nine other people to live on a 72' Sailing Catamaran touring via kayaks, snorkeling and hiking, five of the Galapagos Islands over nine days.  The Galapagos Islands are a wondrous place; volcanic in origin, predominantly desert islands on the equator out in the Pacific Ocean 600 miles off the coast of Ecuador.  They are slipping south east at an inch or two a year and slowly sinking back into the ocean.  They may be under water in a few million years.  The weather and water temperature is mainly determined by four ocean currents and were mild to cool during our stay. 

 

 

Our group leader from Explorers Corner was Nancy Moore, a member of CASKA.  She worked with an excellent Ecuadorian naturalist and a ship's crew of seven.  Together, Nancy and the naturalist covered the geological history of the islands and pointed out and described the characteristics of the many species of animal life.  As Darwin discovered, many species, although similar to others in nearby islands, were unique to a single island.  We were requested not to touch, feed, give water to, nor engage the animals in any way.  For example, if a curious baby Sea Lion came to you, sniffed at and tickled your ankle with his whiskers, you were not to move.  In return, the animals were never hostile, had no fear, and generally ignored us, even when we were just a few feet from them.

 

 

Our days generally started at 5:30 am, kayaking

 

or snorkeling

 

 

at 6:00, breakfast at 8:30 and off to another adventure snorkeling, kayaking or hiking until noon.  After lunch, there was relaxation time and then more of the same until late afternoon and happy hour.  Diner was at 7:00.  We celebrated my 82nd birthday one evening.  We spent a lot of our time on and in the water all but one day when we visited the Darwin Research Center and the nearby town of Puerto Ayora, where much of the group retired for Margaritas before dinner back on the boat.

 

The kayaks were sit-on-top inflatable Feathercrafts, both singles and doubles.  They were comfortable, stable, and fast enough, an excellent compromise for the purpose.  Although Beverly and I were the most experienced paddlers, the others all had some experience and after a very little coaching from Nancy and the naturalist, the group moved quite well on the water.  Much of our kayaking time was spent exploring the volcanic rock cliffs of the island shorelines.  The scenery was spectacular.  Everyone in the group also had some snorkeling experience and that also went very well.

 

The sea was filled with fish, large and small, the smaller often in huge schools.  In the water we played with sea lions, who quickly became bored with us for being so slow.  Small Galapagos Penguins shot by like torpedoes.  Small sharks and sting rays ignored us.  When the boat was moving from between islands, dolphins raced the boat and cavorted in front of us to demonstrate how much faster they could swim.  Eventually they became bored and left us.  The next show came about a half hour later watching giant Manta Rays leap completely out of the water and fall back with a big splash a few hundred yards from the boat.

 

 

There were birds of many species everywhere, including, finches, Albatrosses, Blue footed booby's (the bluer the feet, the sexier the male). There were large numbers of Giant Galapagos Tortoises

 

 

weighing hundreds of pounds and up to 150 years old, Sea Lions by the dozens, Iguanas (land and marine), lava lizards and Green Sea Turtles.  We visited a Green Sea Turtle mating pond and a beach where the females came to lay their eggs.  They made wide tracks with their flippers from the sea to the nests.

 

 

It was a trip of a lifetime, certainly ours.

Jim Tibensky: Texas Legend

By: Tom Bamonte

I was deep in the heart of Texas this weekend, San Marcos to be exact. San Marcos is the home of the Power Olympic Center, which is headed by Ben Kvanli, a talented whitewater/slalom paddler. What attracted Ben to San Marcos is the San Marcos River, a spring-fed river that rises in the town and has a constant 72 degree temperature all year round. In the last decade the town built the Rio Vista whitewater park, which has three drops and has been outfitted with slalom poles.

Rio Vista Whitewater Park

Rio Vista Park--Another view

People come from all over to train. When I was there I met the slalom team from Alberta, another team from Nevada, and a military group that was studying the possible use of kayaking as a form of PTSD treatment for returning vets. (What a good gig--go kayaking on Uncle Sam's dime and for a good cause.)

When I arrived Ben said we were in for a rare treat. Recent rains had broken the grip of the drought and Ben thought we could run Onion Creek, which is only possible about once every three years. It apparently is a nice run with a big drop near the end. 

Twenty of us got boats and gear loaded. Along the way, we saw a bunch of other folks with whitewater boats. Indeed, I have seen more whitewater boats than cowboy hats in Texas thus far. My sense is that Texans keep them handy for when it rains because there is not a lot of steady whitewater in Texas.

We arrived at the launch, put in, paddled a quarter of a mile and found our way blocked. We were either too late or Onion Creek never was runnable that day. Not an auspicious start. We reversed course and headed back to San Marcos.

On the way back I rode with Ben. I asked him if he knew Jim Tibensky because I thought that they were both at the 1996 Olympics. Ben's face lit up. He said that Jim had been an "incredible teacher" and, in words echoed by many Chicago paddlers, Ben recounted that Jim "had taught me more about the forward stroke than just about anyone." Ben said that Jim came along at a crucial time in his paddling career and was a really good influence.

I was pleased to establish a Chicago-Texas connection. We later put in at the Rio Vista park and I was able to demonstrate that as a whitewater paddler I'm a decent sea kayaker. After about 4 straight hours in my boat, I hauled myself out on a rock ledge, ready to call it a day and head back to Dallas.

Along came a lithe fellow with cat-quick steps. He said he wanted to give me three things to work on. It was clear from his body language that the list of things I need to work on is much longer. I listened to his suggestions, all good ones, but feared that he might want to work further down the long list and that might discourage me from whitewater paddling forever. 

So, to break the flow I asked him out of the blue, "you wouldn't happen to know Jim Tibensky would you"? That stopped him in his tracks. "Of course, I remember Jim. We raced against each other a few times. Every time I thought for sure I had trained sufficiently to beat him but somehow he always bested me." Again, sound familiar?

The gentleman was Jim Stewart. I hope to run into him again my next trip to San Marcos and get his instruction before I spend another four hours reinforcing bad habits (but still having fun).

Jim Tibensky--Texas Legend. 

Trip Report- Slate Islands Provincial Park

Growing up only a 2 hour drive from Lake Superior, I never realized how fortunate that I was.  Each summer, my parents would take us on a weekend trip into harbor towns such as Ashland, Bayfield, Superior and Duluth.  Some of my favorite trips were those up Minnesota's north shore.  It was a scenic delight, stopping at places like the Split Rock Lighthouse and Goosebury Falls.   

Along the way there are a number of roadside pull-offs, each of which highlights rivers and streams as they make their final drops to the level of Lake Superior. Despite these many wonderful trips, it never failed that each one stopped just short of the U.S./Canada border.  Canada seemed forever a mystery to me.  This all changed in August 2011, when Jennifer and I loaded our sea kayaks and gear and headed north. We not only returned to Minnesota's shores of Lake Superior, but onward across that mysterious border crossing into Canada.  In two days time, our journey had taken us half way around Lake Superior to our destination in the Slate Islands Provincial Park of Ontario.  This is an extended summary of our adventure.  

  Driving from southern Wisconsin, we spent one day traveling across the state and into Minnesota, making quick stops at several of the scenic parks and waysides on the north shore. For a first-time visitor, exploring these places alone could make for a lengthy but worthwhile vacation.  It was my intention to stop and get a motel room in Grand Marais MN, but that plan was foiled by an overabundance of tourists, who left nary a vacant room.  Slightly exasperated, we continued on through Grand Portage and to the Pigeon River border crossing.  Passports in hand we were asked a few questions, and were officially granted access into Canada.  

With darkness falling fast, we spent another hour looking for moose as we made our way to the city of Thunder Bay.   Once there, we again had trouble finding a vacant motel room. My idea of "winging it" was not turning out so well. With over 13 hours and 600 miles of driving behind us, it was about 11pm when we finally found a run-down motel in an older area of town and were finally able to rest our heads for the night.

We woke the following morning, happy to see that our vehicle and kayaks were still where we left them. After breakfast at a local diner, we poked around Thunder Bay for a bit before making a side-trip to the spectacular Kakabeka waterfalls in a park to the northwest of town. Unfortunately, we didn't have proper change for the park's parking meter, so rather than explore, we ran down to see the view and snap a few pictures and were back on the road shortly thereafter.

While this was indeed a "paddling trip", I found that driving the Trans-Canada Highway and seeing part of Canada's north shore from the road was a big highlight of the adventure.  From Thunder Bay eastward, the scenery often seems to go up, and up, and up. Off shore are many large islands, some of which rise out of the water for several hundred feet, and form a plateau often topped with boreal forest.  It didn't click at the time, but I had seen some of these islands before.  Later I realized that some of these same islands and plateaus are ones that I had seen from Isle Royale a couple of years before.

Once east of Thunder Bay, we drove through mountainous ranges where the highway was carved through solid rock in many places.  We stopped to enjoy several scenic overlooks along the way.

Along the way, towns which I though might be more formidable while looking at a map, proved smaller than I had imagined.  Among the larger are Nipigon (pop 1750) and Schrieber (pop 900).  Just off the highway between the two is the tiny town of Rossport (pop 66) which is the home of Superior Outfitters , the only sea kayak related business we noted on the north shore.   Located adjacent to waters protected by the Rossport Islands, it looks like ideal locale for promoting sea kayaking on the Great Lakes.  

By mid-afternoon we reached the end of our drive at Terrace Bay Ontario (pop 1625).  Terrace Bay is the closest town to the Slate Islands.  A recent "revitalization project" resulted in the opening of a sort of strip mall in the town's center, which contains a small grocery, restaurant, and several other businesses. There is also a small hospital, visitor's center,  campground, and the local office of the Ontario Ministry of Natural Resources. The focal point of town is a wooden replica of the State Island's lighthouse, which is open for climbing to the top and a nice view of Lake Superior. 

 Among the other area attractions are 2 beautiful beaches, and Aguasabon Falls, which is a 100' drop of the Aguasabon River.  If one were to visit during the spring melt, I am willing to bet that it is a very impressive site. During our visit the water was low, and views of the main drop were shrouded by the surrounding foliage.

We checked into the Aguasabon Falls Campground, which as one might guess, is on the river adjacent to the falls. The campground is much like one would expect, and provided a plot of land for us to pitch a tent for the night. The camp host told us to pick any site, as she wasn't expecting anyone else on a Sunday afternoon. As luck would have it, the campground also sells permits and licenses.  There, we were able to buy our Crown Land non-resident camping permits needed for the Slate Islands.  The cost of permits was $10 per person per day.  This saved us from need to wait for the MRN office to open the following morning. 

 After setting up our camp for the night, we spent a couple of hours exploring Terrace Bay's lakefront on Lake Superior as we eyeballed our crossing to the Slate Islands.  As luck would have it, a lakefront hike amongst giant boulders led me right into huge patches of wild blueberries, which were small but sweet. 

Back at camp, evening soon came and went, much of which we spend relaxing and listening to weather forecasts before sacking out for the night.

Monday morning we woke to heavy fog and dew covered everything. We broke camp and went to town for pancakes before paddling. I was hoping some of the fog would burn off during breakfast so that we didn't have to make a blind 7 mile crossing on unfamiliar water.   In the diner, I overheard a truck driver ask a waitress how long the fog would last. "It's usually gone after lunch", she said un-surely.  Dang.

The Slate Islands Provincial Park is not a park in most common forms of the word.  Oddly enough, science has proved that the islands are the center of a large meteor impact crater, with evidence of a crater rim 20 miles in diameter.   In 1985, the Ontario government established the Slate Islands as a "natural environment provincial park".   In the islands there are no roads and no developed campsites.  A big attraction for me (beyond paddling amongst isolated islands on Lake Superior) were that these islands are home to Ontario's southern-most herd of woodland caribou.  Existing trails on these islands are mainly those which have been made by hooves.  

After finishing our breakfast, we returned to the mouth of the Aguasabon River, which is adjacent to the beach.  A boat launch is provided here which allows boats to make their way out the mouth of the river and onto Lake Superior.  We piled all of our drybags of food and gear at the water's edge and began packing our kayaks.  Despite the challenges, I find that there is something very satisfying about being able to pack everything one needs to live into a long and skinny boat.  As we were packing, I was thankful to see the sun was starting to burn off some of the fog which shrouded the lake.  

The crossing from Terrace Bay to the Slate Islands is one of the main sticking points of a visit.   With over 7 miles of open water which is exposed to wave fetch from the far ends of the lake, even a moderate wind can create havoc on the water.  Once the main crossing is completed, there is plenty of sheltered water between the islands, but it is still 2-3 miles further to a location suitable for setting up camp.   Once the camping is over, there is yet the issue of crossing back to the mainland.  The lake is the boss, and regardless of  forecasts we always pack extra food, knowing that our stay may be extended due to weather.   A good rule of thumb during summer on Lake Superior is to plan one weather day for every 3 days of paddling.  

On this day we were happy to have light winds and calm conditions.  This was particularly nice since we were paddling blindly into the fog with only our compasses to guide us.  We were perhaps 1/2 way across before the fog had lifted enough for us to make out the outline of islands in the distance.  It felt good to see that my chartwork had us right on target for the channel between Mortimer and Delaute Islands.

About 2-1/2 hours after leaving the mouth of the river, we made our first footprints on a rocky point on the east end of Mortimer Island.  

A quick snack and stretching of the legs put us back on the water again a few minutes later.  It wasn't until we turned the corner and entered the sheltered waters that I finally began to really size up the area.  Sitting at home studying maps and charts never gives me a true feeling for the scale of things.   The Slate Islands are big, but not too big.  With 7 islands, several additional islets, and over 50 miles of shoreline, I found it quite ideal for a trip of 3-5 days.  

Paddling near shore towards McGreevy Harbor, we found the first signs of humans having been there-  several canoes overturned up above the high water line.  We didn't know what to make of the canoes at first, and thought that the islands might be more populated than we had imagined.  Eventually we realized that there was no one around, but that adventurous Terrace Bay residents must leave the canoes out on the islands to use at their convenience after motoring across in larger boats.   We also found floating docks at a couple of the more popular areas for camping, and I suspect that the docks may be of the same regard.

On the islands, there are a few old cabin sites from a time previous to the islands becoming protected land.  Now being public property, these sites are open to the public- but maintenance, repair, and improvement of the existing structures is no longer permitted.  What this means is that nature is slowly taking it's course.  All but one of the cabins is in poor condition.  The "Come-n-Rest" cabin on McColl island has survived, perhaps because Caribou researchers fixed it up some years ago.  Since, it been in use by fishermen, campers, and residents of Terrace Bay.  It remains open for any who wish to use it, with the only request being that one must leave it cleaner than they found it.  Only time will tell how long this can go on, but it would be an ideal place to "camp" for a couple of days in the Slate Islands.

With our own camp set in McGreevy Harbor, we took advantage of lightened (empty) boats to explore a couple of large bays on the north shore of Patterson Island.   Paddling close along a shoreline of steep and solid rock topped with thick boreal forest, there is seldom a sign of human existance.  Deep in a bay with water temperatures in the 60's, we took advantage of a sandy point for a swim and snacks.  

Throughout the week, the interior waterways of the Slate Islands proved beautiful and rugged.  At the same, time the inside passages provided protected water to paddle and explore on days that could be too windy or rough to venture onto open waters.  With a fair number of miles behind us on this first day, we returned to camp feeling the effects of a long day of paddling.

With dusk coming, we had dinner and were enjoying the beautiful surroundings, with music of the loons calling across the bay.  I was basking in the joy of the moment when I was suddenly startled by the sight of Jennifer running towards me with a look of fearful excitement on her face.  It was apparent she was being chased, but this made no sense!   As she got near me, it was all she could do to stammer out the words-   "CARI, CARI, CARI, MOOSE!! ; IT RAN OUT OF THE WOODS RIGHT TOWARDS ME!!!!"    "Caribou?" I asked.   "Yea" she said.    I couldn't help but to laugh at Jennifer's antics, but I was a bit concerned, as my personal experience with Caribou was right up there with my experience flying the space shuttle.  I took a few steps to get a view around a line of trees between us and our camp, and sure enough- we had company.  

 

 With about 20 yards between us, I was looking the caribou in the eye, and he, the same of me.  It was an obscure looking animal- bigger than a deer, but smaller than a cow.  Most impressive was the giant rack of antlers that appeared obscenely large for the head.  Not knowing what else to do, I moved slowly across camp to grab my camera.  The eyes of the beast were on me  every step of the way.  His demeanor was not at all what I had expected, as the big bull seemed quite unconcerned by our presence.   So much in fact, that as we stood there with great concern he lowered his head to the ground and proceeded to spend the next several minutes eating the grass around our tent.   It all seemed very surreal as he slowly munched his way towards the picnic table, when I realized that we could have a problem.  We had just finished eating and ALL of our food and kitchen items were spread out across the top of the table!   In a flash he was there sniffing away at our goods as I ran up from the other side of the table yelling NOOO!"  "GET OUT OF HERE!!"  

The bull flinched a bit and stared me in the eye once again, but this time from only an arm's length away.   I couldn't help but to think that I might be just short of being gored by the wild animal, but with a little more yelling and flailing of the arms, the bull turned and wandered back into the woods, seemingly unfazed by our encounter.

With the adrenaline rush winding down, we stowed our gear and hung our food as darkness fell upon us.   Just as we were turning in,  another caribou made it's way through our camp.  This one bolted quickly back into the woods as soon as she realized she was not alone.  I thought it strange that one would ignore us while another would run away in fear.  In the tent during the night I woke several times only to hear the sound of the caribou munching on surrounding grass.  I was thankful our tent required no guy-lines or they would of surely been tripping over them.   Perhaps it was that I was tired, or half-asleep, but at the time I recall feeling great comfort in the fact that the caribou were there, doing what they do.

 

The next morning it was apparent that Jen had had enough of the caribou, as when I suggested breaking camp to paddle the exposed open coast to the south side of the island group, she quickly agreed.  With that, we broke camp and were off into the fog.

We found the exposed coast of the islands to be more rugged and potentially unfriendly to kayakers than anywhere we had previously been.   Much of the shoreline consists of broken vertical rock face, with few good places to land or launch if conditions were not ideal.  Where it was possible to land, the shore was steep cobble terraces.  At our one stop on a cobble beach, we found that the shallow areas leading into it were lined with a solid bottom of sharp and jagged volcanic rock.  I was thankful that there was no surf, or landing might have been a disaster.  

 

By lunch, we had paddled down much of the east shore and the fog had mostly lifted.   There are a couple of interesting islets protecting a fairly deep bay on the southeast shore, which looked like it may have been suitable for setting up camp.  We wanted to round the corner to see the Slate Islands Lighthouse, but little did I know at the time, our paddle was far from over.   

We were happy to see our compasses turning as we rounded onto the south side.  It didn't take long before atop one of the island's highest points the lighthouse came into view.   Closer to the water's edge we found that there was a residence on top of a rocky shore.    Though tempted to stop and meet the residents, we chose to paddle on around the bend and into Sunday Harbor.  

In the harbor is the rather unique light-keeper's house.   Deep in the harbor we found a good sized cabin cruiser which had seemingly broken down during a previous year and was then tossed up onto the beach during a storm.  All the components of the boat appeared to be intact, and I remain curious about the boat to this day.  

We spent a couple of hours on that beautiful sand beach, snacking and taking in the sun.  I was looking for the perfect spot to pitch our tent for the night when I found a set a wolf tracks on the edge of the beach.  This was a surprise, as there has been no documented wolves in the Slate Islands for many years.  I took a couple of pictures and forwarded them to the MNR on our return to civilization.  

It wasn't long after finding the wolf tracks that Jennifer surprised me by explaining that she wanted to finish the island circumnavigation instead of camping in Sunday Harbor.   Happy to see that she was feeling good about committing to a 20+ mile day, I figured that I should jump at the chance.   After looking over our charts, we refilled our supply of drinking water and headed up the rugged western coast.  

 

With the afternoon sun upon us, the island took on a glow.   Every couple of miles the rocky shore changed from black to blue, then reds, and golds.    With the sun also came the winds, and after a long day of exposed coast, we were happy to make our way back into the protected waters between Patterson and Mortimer islands. 

 

A couple of more miles brought us into Copper Harbor, and our home for the next 2 days.  Within the harbor we had our own private sand beach, protected from the winds by a massive outcropping of solid rock.  In the woods we found a flat terrace on the side of a large hill, just big enough for our tent.  We slept well that night despite a hard rain, which was the only of our trip.  

The next day we could hear the wind blowing through the tops of the trees.  After lolly-gagging in camp for some time, we bush-whacked over a ridge through thick pine forest to get a glimpse back towards the mainland.  We found the open waters were churning with wind and waves of good force.   It was clear that there would be no open coast paddling today, and I was again thankful for the protection provided by our position between the islands.  

Returning from the woods, we found that the rock outcropping protecting our campsite just happened to be an ideal spot to bask in the sun.  I cannot speak for Jennifer, but for that afternoon, I felt like I was the king of the Slate Islands.  

Eventually, we returned to our boats and went across the harbor to search for the Copper Mine which the harbor was named for.  Our search was futile, and having had enough bushwhacking for one day, we gave up the without success and headed back out of Copper Harbor for more exploration.  

Making our way around a couple of the smaller inner islands, we stopped to see a couple of the cabin sites that remain.  We had passed by the Come-N-Rest cabin on a previous day and saw that a family was staying there.  On this day everyone was gone, and it seemed that the the Slates were ours.  Visiting the cabins, I couldn't help but to think about the history and people who built and stayed on these islands over the years.  Near the cabin we found a large collection of Caribou bones and iron relics which people had recovered over years of exploring the islands.  

Near the water's edge sits a cast-iron bathtub which campers fill with lake water and then stoke a fire beneath, for a sort of woodland hot tub.   One story is that the tub came from the light-keeper's house during a past renovation.  I was thankful that we had been blessed with lake water in the 60's, in which we swam daily.    Had we not already had a comfortable camp set up in Copper Harbor, we might have tried cabin life that night. 

With the weather forecast calling for strong winds for the next few days, we were faced with the choice of staying in the islands indefinitely, or attempting to paddle out.  While we were equipped to spend an extra night or two, the forecast was not on our side even then.  We spent our last night enjoying Copper Harbor, and wondering how we missed the Caribou who had left fresh tracks across "our beach" sometime during the day.

 We broke camp early in the morning, hoping to beat the winds during our crossing back to the mainland.
The first couple of miles were not comforting, with big swells and confused waves which brought question to every forward stroke. Jennifer was looking confident, perhaps more-so than I was feeling, which was good for both of us.  Once we got away from the islands the confused waves were left behind and we were left with only big swell, which was a pleasant but tiresome relief.

 

I was proud of what we had accomplished, and especially of Jennifer, who had not only paddled long and hard every day, but also kept us fed.  Despite the excitement of the crossing, I was left with melancholy knowing that the adventure was winding down.  A few miles later and we were loading the truck in preparation for the big juicy cheeseburgers which we knew were only a couple miles inland. 

As a visitor, I found Canada to be everything that I hoped for and more.   With rugged terrain, giant herbivores, big water, and spectacular islands, our "next trip" is already coming together in my mind.    

If you have any thoughts of it, I will just say that even if you never touch the water, the drive alone is worth the trip!

-Russ Johnson- 

Kayaking Cobscook Bay and Coastal Maine With Geneva Kayak

By Mary Fairchild

As every mariner knows, to truly discover the character of Maine and her people one must approach them from the water.  Christopher Little

  
Ron, Mary, Emily, Ryan, Erin, Anne Margaret, and Paul.

At one time, according to maritime superstition, it was believed that having a woman on board your boat angered the seas and that she was an omen of bad luck for everyone. This past week we had a 50-50 ratio of men to women and our group actually was "in search of angry seas"--namely tide races, surf, and swell. 

 
Paul and Ron checking out our route.  Our group was a level 4 open water sea kayak course led through Geneva Kayak Center by coaches Ryan Rushton and Paul Redzimski. 

In our first few days we focused on surfing and rock gardening along the coastal islands off Jonesport, Maine. 

Level 4 sea kayak training in Coastal Maine (above).

 
Throughout our week we worked on surfing, boat handling, play boating, navigation, seamanship, and rescues. 
 
Waves picked up to 12' before everyone stopped surfing for the day.  Jonesport is a 12-mile peninsula that is drained by the Indian River.  Tides here average 18'. 

 
This is the shoreline by our guesthouse when the tide was out.  I enjoyed watching the birds that morning sampling all of the newly exposed delicacies.  Jonesport's many uninhabited islands are nesting areas for eider, comorants, seagulls, razorbills, guillemots, loons, black scoters, grebes and eagles. 

 
Where are we?  If you do not use your knowledge of navigation regularly you cannot rely on it.  Good piloting and dead reckoning means being constantly aware of your apporximate position and then finding ways to check and clarify that position.

Maine mariners are known the world over for their navigation skills.  With the added moisture from the Atlantic Ocean, the weather is known to change quickly.  There are an average of 59 foggy days every year at Quoddy Head Light near Lubec. 

We did not encounter fog during our week but we planned for it.  "Pea soup" is said to make for a good test of dead reckoning skills.  Although we checked the buoys for tide direction, in a fog navigating is done from buoy to buoy and close attention to your compass course and distance made good.  You can listen to the toll of the buoys, the irregular dissonance of the 4 noted bong buoys, and the whistle buoys.  One of these sounds would lead you to your next point.
 
The coastline of Maine contains some 1,700 islands.  Geologists call this area a "drowned coast."  The original coastline being only 250 miles is now irregular and indented and over 2,500 miles. 

Christopher Little explains, in his book The Rockbound Coast, as he describes the vuluptuous, grassy bluffs of Maine:  "Most of the green clad islands you can see from here are remnants of the resistant granite roots of long gone mountains." 
 
The effects of the ocean can significantly moderate the weather on the islands and for a few miles inland, depending on the direction of the wind.  The water on the coast is part of an upwelling of the Labrador Current that has its origin under the polar ice cap.  The air or wind passing over the coastal waters is cooled and humidified before it arrives ashore. 
 
Erin setting up to peel out at the Reversing Falls of Cobscook Bay. 

 
When water pours through a narrow channel, round a headland or over a shallow ledge of rock, it may create a tide race. 

 
According to the Hydrographic Dictionary and Bowditch, a tide race is a strong tidal current or a channel in which such a current flows. 

 
Cobscook Bay is a semi-enclosed sea that extends almost 200 miles.  It's highly convoluted shorelines, intense tidal currents, and cold waters all contribute to the area's diverse marine habitats.  It is part of the Bay of Fundy and is located between Falls Island and Mahar Point in Pembroke, Maine. 

 
(Picture:  Cobscook Bay Resource Center.)   Falls Island sets up like a cork in a bottle--an obstacle to the tidal flow into the great bays west of Cobscook. 

 
Emily making the most of the flood tide.

 
(Reversing Falls:  Cobscook Bay Resource Center)

Ben Ellison described his adventure on Cobscook Bay in Maine: Boats, Homes & Harbors, "Well, it turns out that high water and even 'slack' low are both fairly hellacious in the narrows around and aptly named Falls Island, and all time periods between look fit only for whitewater kayakers.  While the depths are reasonable and the charts amazingly accurate, the upwellings, whirlpools, and whatnot, to say the least, are challenging....  We exited a more sinuous and raucous northern route...That was when an entire family leapt instantly from "basking-on-smooth-warm-ledge' mode to 'look-at-the-crazies-shoot-the-rapids' full attention as we passed by." 

 
Anne Margaret ferrying across Reversing Falls.  Our group used the on-lookers on the boulders and cliffs for a point of reference as we ferried across this incredible area. 

 
Ron glidding across.  At times we couldn't help but be occasionally distracted by a bald eagle soaring overhead or a group of seals peaking up at us.

 
As the tide reversed and began to ebb, we began to spot starfish in the seaweed and sand dollars on the sea floor. 

 
Slack tide.  While loading our boats at the end of the day, one car stopped by and rolled down their window to sincerely thank us.  They really enjoyed watching us play in the rapids.

 
Wine, women, and song?

Hardly.

 

Angry seas?

We certainly hope so!

 

Mfairlady