CASKA: Chicago Area Sea Kayakers Association

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

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.  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

Paddle/Hike/Play

Sarah Hartman Great Slave Lake Solo Adventure: The Trailer

I'm sure that we will hear much more from Sarah Hartman about her recent adventure on the East Arm of the Great Slave Lake. She has a standing invitation to do a presentation at the 2012 edition of Canoecopia, for example. Just to tantilize us, Sarah sent the following dispatch, likely composed during her long flight back from Yellowknife, Northwest Territories via Toronto. Consider it a preview of coming attractions.

 

East Arm Great Slave Lake: Trip Summary

By: Sarah Hartman

 

If Ontario is the Boundary Waters on steroids, Great Slave Lake is Canada on steroids. I've fished some fabulous Canadian wilderness; this is beyond anything I've seen. It's easy to see why McLeod Bay is under consideration to become a national park.

 

The decision to go solo was made deliberatively and with consultation with friends, coaches, paddling mentors, and authorities (and locals) in Yellowknife.  Tom Bamonte had warned me a couple months prior to the trip that things might not align for him. I had a lot of time to think, work through the 'what-ifs', and come to a decision that was right for me.

 

I discovered I DO enjoy kayak touring. My longest day was a little over 20 nm (all my measurements were as-the-crow-flies). My best average speed was 3.5 knots/hr. Camp chores, boat maintenance, chart work, personal care, and journaling took 5-6 hours each day. I have NO desire to take off to Australia to break Freya's record any time soon.

 

Most days McLeod Bay was flat to 6" chop. Two days I had to pull off early due to building sea state. Four days were spent in camp due to conditions, and the trip ended a day early due to those same conditions.  If I had been on the familiar waters of Lake Michigan, or had the luxury of marine weather forecasts, or had been with a companion, my decisions may have been different. For the time and the circumstances, they were the right decisions for me.

 

Fourteen days out was wonderful. I really got disconnected from Chicago life but felt like I was too long away from the responsibilities left behind. I was ready to come home but with mixed feelings. I certainly needed another five days to see all McLeod Bay had to offer.

 

Learnings:

- It's ok to be by yourself. Just be smart about it.

- It's easier with others though because you can split up the work (and/or have somone to chat with on the weather days).

- I'll for sure go solo again.

 

Gear I'm expecially glad I had:

- Silk Coccoon sleeping bag liner. Worth the price!

- Storm Cag: great wind breaker for around camp and also to protect the dry suit from rough rocks while doing the morning cooking.

- Dry suit: It was really too warm most days but a wet suit would have been too cold.

- Detailed topo maps to fill in the missing info on the nautical chart of the East Arm and the Snowdrift and Reliance area maps.

- A fleece layer for wearing around camp.

Gear that I wish I had brought:

- Toe nail clippers will be added to the kit

 

Gear that I forgot that I wish I hadn't:

- Thermos for hot water. (Have no idea how I forgot that one but I felt not quite properly equipped without it.)

 

New piece of gear that I tried and liked:

- Liqui-Bait Wallet by Plano. Less expensive than a Pelican case and just as water proof.

 

Paddle hard, learn well, follow your passions wherever they lead.

 

Sarah

 

 

 

 

Sarah Hartman Great Slave Lake Solo Adventure Update V--No Movement

Sarah remains perched on the bay next to Thompson Landing, where she landed yesterday. The forecast is much better, with winds at 15 mph and dropping in speed. Friday might be a good last day of paddling for Sarah. Or maybe she just really likes Thompson Landing. We will find out soon enough.

Sarah Hartman Great Slave Lake Solo Adventure Update IV--Movement to Mainland

Sarah has moved from a tiny island off of Thompson Landing to a spot on the mainland not far away. She is in a broad bay that likely is very suitable for a bush plane pick up if she remains there until Saturday.

The weather forecast suggests that she might well have to stay put. There is a strong wind warning in effect and winds are currently about 25 mph. Winds will continue in the 15 mph range through Saturday. By being on the mainland, however, she has some opportunities to explore the rugged country on foot.

Sarah Hartman Great Slave Lake Solo Adventure Update III--Gale

Sarah has spent another day on a flat, S-shaped island just off of Thompson Landing. Conditions have deteriorated and she is in a gale with 35 mph winds with rain. One can only imagine what that is like on what looks to be a relatively flat island exposed to the full force of the winds and waves.

The winds are forecast to diminish to 20 mph by morning and through Wednesday and the rain will be tapering off. On Thursday and Friday the winds are forecast to drop to 15 mph. This might allow Sarah to make some forward progress towards her Saturday rendezvous with the bush plane.

Paddling Lake Okoboji: One of Only Three Blue Water Lakes in the World

By Mary Fairchild

(Arnolds Park)

West Okoboji Lake is located to the south and west of the City of Okoboji and northwest of the City of Arnolds Park in northwest Iowa. Last week I was able to paddle some of my favorite areas of the lake where we frequently vacation with my husband's family.

Vacation Okoboji Magazine 2011 claims that Arnold's Park's wooden coaster, located near Pillsbury Point State Park, is in its element today (pictured). Owner Wesley Arnold's granddaughter, Caroline Anderson Moyer, who lives in St. Charles, Illinois, just visited last year. She was never allowed to ride the roller coaster because her parents thought it was too dangerous--at that time, kids would try to stand on the seats during parts of the ride...

I rode the roller coaster for my first time in the summer of '83 when I was kidnapped from my wedding reception by the groomsmen and put on it in my wedding dress...  I'm not kidding.  It was our anniversary this past weekend and we were able to visit with two of the groomsmen who both remember "the adventure."

In 1946, Arrow Development was started by four men who previously worked together at Hendy Iron Works--Bill Hardiman, Angus Anderson (of Arnold's Park), Karl Bacon, and Ed Morgan. All four men were instrumental in the start up and development of Arrow along with designing/building the rides for Disneyland when it opened in 1955.

West Okoboji Lake is about seven miles long and up to two miles in width and it is the largest of a chain of five connecting lakes, which is considered part of Iowa's Great Lakes.  

The lake is a glacial pothole with curved, boulder-strewn shores surrounded by clusters of knobby hills, smaller lakes and bogs, and abundant sand and gravel deposits.

It is one of only three lakes in the world that are considered to be a blue water lake.  The other two are Lake Geneva in Switzerland and Canada's Lake Loiuse.  These lakes are fed by cool, fresh, subterranean springs. 

Just around the bend from Arnolds Park is Pillsbury Point State Park.  Mike Koppert, operates the Abbie Gardner cabin, and massacre monument which are located there.  

 

 

Mike has created a film, which he shares, depicting the history of the site where, on March 8, 1857, a small band of Wahpekute Dakota warriors led by Inkpaduta began attacking white settlements on the Okoboji lakes.  An interesting note, there are claims that, about twenty years later, in 1876, it was one of Inkpaduta's sons who may well have killed Custer at the Battle of Little Bighorn.

Ideally, I should have had my boater's registration sticker on my kayak right by the Geneva Kayak.com but I don't have all of the paperwork from last fall's purchase of the used boat that is required for the process. 

 

 

I've been lucky with my few excursions away from my Wisconsin home base where I am not required to have my kayak registered.  My boat travels to Maine next month and I will luck out again as Maine still does not require non-motorized boats to be registered--negative public response appeared to work in that state.  When it comes to non-motorized boats, only Illinois, Ohio, Oklahoma, Iowa (boats over 15'), Minnesota (boats over 9'), and Pennsylvania (if used at a Pennsylvania Fish and Boat Commission [PFBC] lake or area, or at a Pennsylvania State Park lake), require registration fees. 

After non-motorized boat users complained in droves, the registration fees in Alaska  were eventually dropped from the law.  In 2000, in Arizona the annual registration fee was also dropped due in part to high administration costs that were exceeding the revenues that were being collected and an ineffective ability to return services to the public.

When it comes to paddle boats, not only is there is a higher rate of turnover which makes for more paperwork, but many paddlers tend to own more than a single canoe or kayak and when it comes to registration, this makes what their share of what they pay in boating fees disproportionate compared to the owners of single, more expensive powerboats. 

 Hundreds of thousands of dollars go into creating bike trails without requiring bicycles to be registered like cars and in the same way it makes sense that paddle boats ought to be separated from motor boats.  All power-boats are registered just like cars for a good reason. The money is used to support investments in channel marking and provides for law enforcement in heavily used oceans and lakes.   

American Whitewater reports that registration fees have rarely been used to benefit paddlesports, but tend to be diverted for motor-boat launch sites and programs that benefit fishermen, but unlike hunters and fishermen, paddlers take nothing from the environment.  Registration laws also increase the opperating costs for church organizations, university programs, and comercial angling outfitters and whitewater outfitters. 

Since Illinois requires all boats to be registered in the state, if you are coming from another state that does not require kayaks to be registered, as most do not, you will have to purchase a license in your state or from Illinois. The initial fee for registration in Illinois currently is $13.00 for 3 years (for each boat). Renewal is then $6 (for 3 years). 

Out-of-state boaters can stay up to 60 days in Illinois if they are registered in their state but since only a few states currently require canoe and kayak owners to register or pay special taxes on their boats, this creates an inconvenience to out-of-state paddlers visiting that have not been required to register their boats.

Heading back to the Crescent Beach Resort...   Time to get out the jet skis and stand-up paddle board...  Life's good.  

Mfairlady

Paddle/Hike/Play

Warm Water Surfing: What's Not To Like?

By: Tom Bamonte

What's not to like about surf practice at Rainbow Beach on a warm August evening (8/3/11) with an enthusiastic paddling partner?

Launch View: Rainbow Beach North to Chicago Downtown 10 Miles Away

Gary Steinbauer Launching

Nice Wave

Sunset

Gary Steers Out Around Amoeba Buoy For First Of About Three Final Circuits

 

Water Music: South Side Buoy Hopping

 By: Tom Bamonte

There are plenty of eminent composers who have been inspired by water. Handel's Water Music, Debussy's La Mer and Weezer's Island in the Sun come to mind. But on a warm Saturday morning Pierre Kornak and I decided to journey to a gong buoy about eight miles out in Lake Michigan where the water makes the music.

Pierre Cutting Nice Figure In His Epic With Distant Skyline

It was a day of buoys. We launched at the Calumet Park boat ramp on a warm day with soft winds and no waves to speak of.  We went a mile east to a buoy marking the south side of the shipping channel leading into Calumet Harbor. Here we spied the first of several large ships that reminded us that the southwest "corner" of Lake Michigan is a busy commerical shipping area.

 

Calumet Harbor Buoy With Freighter in the Distance

We then proceeded about 7 miles due east to a gong buoy designated R "2" on the applicable chart.  As we approached the buoy we caught another ship steaming out to mid-lake.

 

Approaching R "2" Gong Buoy

By this time we could hear the "music" produced by the buoy. It was decidely more ambient in nature than the one hit "Timothy" from the group called the Buoys or the music put out by the contemporary group from Maine called Buoy or by the rapper Buoy Royale or even the recent song entitled "Gong Buoy: Pacific Coast" by a band called Village of Spaces.

Gong buoys have a distinctly different sound than a bell buoy, more complex and arguably more interesting. (You compare and decide.) 

The Music Maker: Gong Buoy Seven Miles East of Calumet Harbor South Entrance

Most gong buoys, like this one, have three gongs, which allow for different notes. As we found, even modest waves can prompt the gong buoys to put out a nice stream of music. As someone who is a afficianado of ambient music I felt right at home in the sounds. The music is made by the action of the waves on the buoy the music and is thus ever changing, 24/7/365 creativity.

Alas, we didn't stay long to enjoy the soundscape, what with miles to cover and, deliciously, the approaching wake kicked up the freighter. The wake was traveling in roughly our intended direction to the next buoy to the northwest so we hitched a ride for what felt like about a half mile. In about an hour the buoy marked "B R C 'D'" on the chart appeared. It marks a wreck and water as shallow as 21 feet deep. We didn't see the wreck, but had a snack and drifted southwest, our direction back to the launch.

 
Buoy Marking Wreck

From here we proceed west southwest to a "RACON" buoy located about two miles from the breakwater entrance to Calumet Harbor. "RACON" stands for the Radar Beacon type of buoy. A RACON buoy "responds to a received radar pulse by transmitting an identifiable mark back to the radar set.  The displayed response has a length on the radar display corresponding to a few nautical miles, encoded as a Morse character beginning with a dash for identification." Now that we've cleared that up, on the images:

 
RACON Buoy R "2" Two Miles Northeast of Calumet Harbor Breakwater Entrance

The actual radar beacon kind of looked like one of Poseiden's tools on a nightstand.

RACON Beacon

From here we paddled about three miles through the breakwater entrance and back to the boat ramp. In all, we covered over 21 miles, visited four buoys, and crossed several busy shipping lanes. But most of all, we had journeyed well to hear some sweet water music.