Oh Redwood Tree Please Let Us Under

I started to use "Tippecanoe and Tyler Too" for this blog but, this paddle on the Eel River really cries out to be recognized by Van Morrison.  My second time joining the "Interpretive Paddle" offered by State Parks and led by two Park rangers.  I truly enjoyed the rag-tag fleet and its total lack of pretentiousness.  Once again, my cohorts piloted a variety of vessels from short river kayaks to inflatable canoes and everything in between.  Skill levels were also varied, from the experienced guys who would get distracted by the eddies and play to those of us simply trying to AVOID the obstacles.  Lacking experience, there were several exciting episodes, one on the very first river bend past the start.  It was a "Tippy Canoe and kayaks, too" with three vessels sucked into the snags and flipped over.  I had benefit of a river guy in front of me and I rode the current carefully, following his example to "dirt track" around the turn.  We hung for a while waiting for bodies and belongings to be collected and placed back in their boats before we continued on.  One of the first things I learned about paddling is "dress for immersion", clearly not a lesson learned by all.  To their credit, they were back on board and we continued - I'm not sure that I wouldn't have gone back to the start and called it a day after that.

This would be Robert, one of our Park Ranger guides (not very tall apparently but the dude walks on water!) guiding some onto the river bar where we made a stop at Canoe Creek, the location of the 2003 

wildfire that ripped through the old growth forest.  The trees and meadow are coming back nicely and it was wonderful to be standing in a spot that is seldom seen. 

On these forays, I have to remind myself to look up once in awhile.  If I don't, I miss things like this osprey nest perched on top of a tree.

For a day that started out pretty chilly when we were standing in the parking lot at 8:30, it reached into the mid- to high-70's by the time we pulled out around three. I call the day a success, my first with the boat on my new car.  I managed to tie it down properly and it stayed put both directions.  Twas both an exhilarating and exhausting day.  I learned more about reading the current and recognizing that where the river wants me to go is not always where I should be going.  As always, it was great to be back on the water.

The Tide Is High and I'm Holdin' On

Tides have been running pretty high or, as we call it..."the ocean is full". Once again, it's been ages since I've been on the water and, as always, I wonder if I remember how. It doesn't take long being afloat when it all comes back. Paddling is relaxing for me and I do it for me. As much as I like it, it's not my only entertainment. I took a week off earlier this month and never got on the water, though I got in the garden and on the beach. On the beach, I tend to augment my walks with litter collection (you take a bag to the beach, too, don't you?). And like my beach walks, my paddles tend to be a opportunity to keep trash from endangering marine life. Not far from launch, I spotted something sparkling in the water. At first, I thought it might be the head of a harbor seal. Or a bobber of some sort attached to a fishing line in the rowboat that passed. As I approached, it became clear that it was a bottle...a 40-ounce beer bottle, bobbing happily. I tossed it at my feet in the boat...my first "catch" of the day.
It was a stunning day on the water. With the water level so high, it was safe to explore up Eureka Slough, behind Jacobs Avenue towards Murray Field, without worry of 'beaching' when I take my eyes and mind from what I'm doing. Wildlife was limited to a couple egrets and a heron who stood by only moments then left in a squawky huff when I dallied too long trying to loosen another bottle from the water's edge. After just a couple hours on the water, I ended up with two 40-ouncers (what is it with the people who drink 40's of Steel Reserve?!), a couple chunks of foam, a bag of/from sunflower seeds, a rubber glove, a small blue ball of some sort...and a cigarette pack. Could have gotten more, including a soccer ball but I hesitate to get too far into the shallows when I'm alone, lest I get stuck and have no one to pull me out.

I will leave you with one last shot, taken at the surface as I approached the railroad trestle coming home. A gorgeous October day on the water. If I did it more often, it wouldn't be as special.

I am Strong. I am Invincible.

I am strong. I am invincible…. Actually, I’m pretty ‘vincible’ but I tried this summer to be less so. These are two of my sisters, as we took a walk on the "boardwalk" at the Resort in Coeur d'Alene on a choppy day. But first I had to drive there.

My first accomplishment was replacing two bathroom faucets. For the handy folk out there, this may appear a no-brainer and, in fact, I found it was not technically difficult since I simply reversed the process after removing the old icky faucets. Learning the function of a simple basin wrench? Priceless. Learning that the issue with retrofitting of fixtures is not the actual installation but GETTING in there? Also priceless. Laying there. Crawling. Sprawling. Reaching up while laying, back arched, over the edge of a raised cabinet. Reaching around existing pipes. I can see that new installation would be FAR easier. It probably took me hours longer than it would have taken Mark but I managed it. And now I know I can. BooYAH!

Going from my father’s house to my husband’s at 17 makes one the perennial passenger. My mom didn’t drive until she was nearing 40, not long before I was born so I don’t know that I ever recall her driving with my dad in the car. Heck, if there was company, my Mom took the back seat, deferring her passenger seat to a male guest. Don’t most families leave driving to Dad? I take the wheel occasionally with Mark in the car but distance driving, except in the exceptional cases, is left to the man and I seldom go any distance driving by myself. All this leaves me with little experience navigating in unfamiliar territory. I did drive to Santa Cruz from Carson City twice to visit my folks but it was a 7-hour drive and easily done in a a day. No overnights. I've even made this same drive to Idaho but had the kids along to navigate and keep my occupied. Never alone.

This summer I changed that by setting a course for northern Idaho, fourteen hours away, and driving myself to visit my family. Just making the decision was huge. Then I had to ponder my choices and decide on a route. In hopes of commandeering a spare kayak for a jaunt, I also loaded all my paddling gear. I synced the iPod, packed some snacks and set off. The world was my burrito.

It's odd that there's a real difference between traveling as a passenger and driving on a trip like this. No conversation. but LOUD singing. Although you can't watch the landscape as much as when you're riding shotgun, you see fewer things but you see them differently. You have to pay real attention to signs, both speed limit and directional. And traffic. The real joy would be stopping when I want and taking pictures. Mark is not unwilling to stop but...lets just say I hesitate to make him pull over after passing a caravan of Winnebarges on holiday, knowing he will have to pass them all again after I take a picture or two. But, by myself? Eh...I probably didn't do much passing and don't mind doing it again. So I stopped. I stopped along 199 to enjoy the turquoise waters of the Smith River. On the second day of travel, having spending the night in a Pasco motel, I stopped to watch combines working the wide open fields in southern Washington. Honestly, this area is mostly bland desert but there were stretches of ag land, tended to by behemoth sprinklers that catch my eye every time we head this way.
While in Idaho, I stayed with my sister. Wine was consumed. While wine was consumed, we sat and pondered the birds in her cherry tree and realized there was an abundance of cherries in that tree. She fetched the ladder and a bowl and I climbed. We picked bowls full before the birds beat us to them. I did not fall out of the tree. To celebrate, more wine was consumed.I borrowed my sister's kayak and joined my sister-in-law and the Coeur d'Alene Canoe and Kayak Club on an evening paddle up Wolf Creek, off of Lake Coeur d'Alene. Pretty area, known for resident eagles though just one golden sat atop a tree watching us. Nice people and warm enough to paddle in tank tops at 8:00 at night.
On the way home later in the week, while cruising south on 395, somewhere in the dreary miles of middle Washington, I spotted this train. We were headed the same direction but it was going backwards. The first time I spotted it, it was heading through an ag area and I thought a photo in order. Think about it...the perfect opportunity to catch the front if I got ahead of the back....got it? So, I scurried on ahead to find a good spot to pull over and wait. I grabbed my camera, jumped from my car waiting for it to pass and ...CRAP, dead battery. Argh! I change the battery but the train has continued on. Backwards. The direction I'm going. I charge along, finding spots to pull over but too much junk to make a good photo. Finally, my last opportunity before it ducked to somewhere away from the highway, I pull over, take my last shot at it, surrounded by sagebrush instead of grassy fields but, still, not bad. For a train going backwards...in my direction.

In Springfield, on the way home, I, booked a room and found I was just around the corner from the Hop Valley Brewery so I wandered over for a plate of catfish and a pint of Stout before hitting the hay for the final six-hour push home in the morning. All in all, a great trip. I found that I CAN do this. I drove without getting flipped off once. I pulled into motels without prior reservations. I didn't get too lost and, when I did, found my way again. I successfully located a number of card-locks so I could save a little on the fuels costs of a 1600 mile trip and THAT is no easy task since card-locks are not generally located in easily accessed parts of town. This may not seem like much, but this was an important accomplishment for me.

She Needs Wide Open Spaces....

Feels like ages since I've been on the water. I stayed close to home, opting for the bay on the heals of a good negative tide that landed at 7:30. I thought late morning would be a safe bet to ride the flooding tide so aimed for Eureka Slough.This seemed like an odd place for a patio but the view would be nice if they turned the chair around.

Zoom in to those big chucks of driftwood.

Peek-a-boo, egrets....I saw you.

I'm thinking that super-negative tide required more time to refill the bay because, after being caught off-guard by the shallows a few too many times when I wasn't paying attention, I returned to the harbor. I paddled around the docks until the fishing boats started coming in. Rode the wakes a bit then, when it became a little too bumpy out there, I called it a day. A good day on Humboldt Bay.

River Bar Rendezvous

Another first for me on the water, I joined with a couple dozen others for a paddle with the State Park Rangers on the Eel River. It was a fun group with a variety of vessels, from long aluminum canoes to short river kayaks. From wetsuits to shorts and sneakers. We put in at the rocky beach at Williams Grove on the Avenue and, after a group shot and a "kumbaya moment" (in racing, they call it a driver's meeting), headed out for what the Rangers Richard B. was sure would be the last chance for the season - water levels were dropping and we dragged our collective bottoms more than once.
We took out at Canoe Creek and climbed up to see the affects of the 2003 Canoe Fire. The area was showing signs of recovery, covered with bright greens of redwood sorrel and wild roses. Ranger Alan pointed out the distinct differences in damage done, the charring reaching much higher on trees that had been surrounded by slash left behind during timber harvest.
We continued on, working our way through the shallows and ripples and wind, lunching on the beach at Burlingame then (finally) pulled out where we had shuttled our cars, at Leatherville, just south of Dyerville. It was fun and exhausting and another notch in my belt. We are truly fortunate to live here, people. I love taking opportunities to see this county from a different angle.
My title is intended to taunt Eko back from the dark side......come on....we KNOW you're out there.

ROCK ME ON THE WATER

While last Sunday's bob around Trinidad Head hardly made me fearless, it did toughen me. Prior to that paddle, anything other than a glassy surface would keep me from the water. To be out on the bay enjoying a smooth paddle, only to be caught off guard by the wake stirred up by a passing vessel would totally ruin the excursion. I am now much more daring. Of course, with courage comes the sore muscles that I'm still feeling a couple days later.

Each day, on the way south to the CR campus, we drive over the Elk River Slough. Often, the morning light tempts me to stop in a spot CHP would NOT approve of to record the sky reflected in the water. Looking east from the south bound lanes is pretty in the morning but the view disappears when you're driving northbound. Being ON the water is the only option. When I took up kayaking, I knew the Elk River Slough was a journey I wanted to take and, last Saturday, I got my wish.

This was a much smaller group - just five of us interested in the quiet paddle - but we made it back behind the mobile home park on the lower east side of Humboldt Hill. We paddled till the snags would allow us to paddle no further. We spooked a few cows grazing in the bottoms. While cows make for a bucolic scene, quite frankly their runoff made staying IN the boat the only option; I did not want to swim in that swill and don't much care for the idea of it flushing into my ocean but I suppose the fish have survived this long, right? Right?!Two and a half hours of pretty much constant strokes left my arms like noodles. As we exited the slough into the Bay, we felt mighty small as we watched the passage of a fuel barge and it's escorts then braved the chop whipped up by the wind to exit back on the beach on the North Spit. One more paddle survived and relished.

GEE I THINK YOU'RE SWELL

Heading north, through the predawn fog heading to Trinidad for my first "club" paddle and my first paddle in surf of any sort. The butterflies had long since been replaced by frogs, jumping up and down on my hearty, multi-grain breakfast. Up until now, my paddles were in calm water save for the wakes kicked up by a fishing boat or &*%#$ jet ski. Today, the group from Explore North Coast would be launching in Trinidad Bay. I was assured there would be members willing to coach me through this and I knew I'd never learn if I didn't just get out there so, nervous as I was, I couldn't weenie out. "Prepare to launch at 8:00" so I was on my way by 7:00 having loaded the kayak the night before.I wasn't the first to arrive so was able to follow the more experienced members to the sand near the launch ramp. Still dark but clearing with promises of a beautiful day, we lined-up our boats on the beach and watched the sun rise.Three of us who had not yet experienced wave entries received general instruction on the impending entrance through the small waves...drag the kayak to the water's edge, climb in, "knuckle-drag" and scoot yourself towards the water, when the water lifts you up, paddle .... hard!. I got some help from a few members who pulled me a little farther into the water so I wouldn't have to wait quite so long, waited for a larger wave to come towards me and lift me then....paddled like a mad-woman. I could hear them on the beach yelling "Paddle! Paddle! Paddle!" as my bow cut through a small breaker and I reached the calmer water. WOOOOOOOO! I'm committed now.

The rest of the 19 members launched into the bay and we followed the leader host south. While some members maneuvered through the "rock gardens", we sat and watched while the process of gauging the currents was explained. The water surges in to cover smaller rocks, allowing the kayaker to float over, between larger rocks, continuing through the entire outcropping. Looks like fun but my skills aren't quiet there yet.

We headed to Prisoner Rock and some members were paddling between it and it's smaller neighbor. I wasn't sure if I was up for that and the host assured me I didn't have to, others were going around, but he felt sure I could do it. They coached me through the timing of the surge then the obligatory "Paddle! Paddle! Paddle!" until I came through the divide unscathed. As we continued towards Trinidad Head, I started getting more unsure. Watching the horizon rise and fall as the enormous swell passed under us was unnerving to say the least but somehow relaxing at the same time. We sat just around the point, bobbing and chatting while two porpoises swam around us. Looking up, I saw this awesome view of Trinidad Light, an angle you must be on the water to enjoy. We watched to the north as some of the braver club members surfed the waves on the beach side of the head -- not for me, thank you! We headed back in, through the churning water that is deflected off the Head. We returned through the gap at Prisoner Rock - a little more interesting with the swells coming from your back but the same theory. Sat to watch the blowhole that occasionally explodes near the pier before aiming our boats for the last challenge of the day... surf landing.
The more experienced went in first to show us how it's done...then the host directed the three surf rookies in, one at a time. Standing on the beach with his paddle held vertically, I aim for him. As he pumped it up and down, I paddle harder, he swings it vertical to direct me to stop then paddle backwards a bit then.... he holds it vertical again and pumps it up and down....again with the Paddle! Paddle! Paddle! As the last little wave deposits me on the sand, a guardian angel came forward to drag me out of the wash, allowing me to disembark more gracefully. I had made it. The huge swells that I felt sure would take me down just added to the day. This was an amazing day I won't soon forget.

LOW BRIDGE EVERYBODY DOWN....

I finally got out on the water again today, a freakishly beautiful November afternoon. The tide was nearly finished its flooding so the water was high in Eureka Slough as I headed up from the bay. Passing under the old railroad track west of 101 ... duck! Maybe Eko or one of the other "old timers" can tell me what building I passed? I think it was maybe 1st and X Streets, behind Target. It says "NMPCo" and "1904" on it. I paddled up the slough nearly to Murray Field then decided it was time to get back and get dinner started. I got a little help from the tide as I paddled back to the bay. The water was clear enough for a good reflection of the freeway. A little sun on my skin. A little excitement, riding the wakes of a couple of jet-skis. All in all, another beautiful day.

I FEEL FREE...

Feel when I dance with you,
We move like the sea.
You, you're all I want to know.
I feel free.

It's amazing how often the right song comes on at the right time. I thought Bobby Darrin had it nailed with Somewhere Beyond the Sea then, next on the iPod comes Cream. Very awesome soundtrack to my afternoon and solo paddle #2.

That's right, I played hooky. A perfect sunny autumn afternoon is made even better when the rest of the world is working as I should have been but, instead, I took a few hours of annual leave. A day like this is a terrible thing to waste. I even ditched weight training though maybe I will be forgiven since I had to hoist my kayak on to my car twice and carry it back and forth a few more. That's gotta be worth a few reps, right? I had planned on paddling around the waterfront since I don't have much experience anywhere else but on the way home I cruised past the launch ramp at Fields Landing and realized that it was far quieter than Samoa was likely to be. After I launched, I headed south and came across the Frances. Her captain told me they were stuck in the mud. Patience, Grasshopper. He did wait patiently (what choice did he have?) while his wife and child wandered along the mud flats. By the time I came back around, the tide had risen adequately to float them free and they were gone.I pushed along, stroking quietly so as not to disturb the birds then allowed the kayak to drift with only the distant sound of the waves crashing and the drip drip drip of the water falling from my paddle. I watched a pelican dive for dinner but, when I heard a loud splash behind me, I saw no sign of the pelican. I turned the kayak around and drifted a bit more and heard another splash, then another. Turns out my solo paddle wasn't exactly solo. I had company from this little dude and a couple of his buddies who, I believe were screwing with me, splashing when I wasn't looking. Fine with me as long as they didn't pop up next to me. So I continued around the area, never venturing too far from shore because I'm still a little uneasy out there alone but, at the same time, alone was perfect. Relaxing my mind while venturing further out of my rut. The bright sun reflected on the ripples that were beginning to gather as the tide flowed in to fill the bay. I paddled back to shore, quite pleased with myself.

I'M YOUR CAPTAIN AND I'M FEELING MIGHTY SICK

I get very content in my ruts...my boxes. And stepping outside the proverbial box isn't easy. Not impossible but not easy. Taking an intro kayaking lesson at Paddlefest two years ago was one of those times that I dabbed a toe outside my comfort zone. Then wading further into the abyss, I took another lesson with Hawk at Humboats. I took a couple demos with Greg at ProSport. I took a few classes with Marna from Kayak Zak's, including my own personal prerequisite, Rescue and Recovery class (I thought it best to know for sure I could get myself back on board should I somehow fall out). I spent a Saturday afternoon falling out and getting back in a kayak, using a variety of methods before I was convinced I was ready to purchase my own vessel. A couple of weeks ago, I finally bought a Kestral 140 in highly visible Mango yellow. With a bit of engineering, I was finally able to transport the beast on the roof of my xB and decided that Paddlefest was the perfect opportunity for the virgin voyage. Stepping out of the aforementioned comfort zone generally comes with butterflies. This time, butterflies were non-existent. Instead there were Tasmanian devils whirling my morning mocha into a froth. We got the kayak on the roof, strapped on and tied down and off I went to the launch ramp. I knew I could do it but was afraid I couldn't. I had intended to join in a 10:00 tour of the bay and Eureka Slough so had the incentive of a schedule to goad me along. I loaded safety gear, donned wetsuit and personal floatation device and was on the water by 9:55. Couldn't find the group tour anywhere. I hadn't really paid much mind to the location, presuming it would be an obvious gathering of kayaks but, alas, I was mistaken. So, I took a two-hour tour by myself.

With some effort, I paddled against the incoming tide around Woodley Island watching all the while for the promised boat parade and Blessing of the Fleet scheduled for the Maritime Expo. How did I miss an entire parade? I was REALLY looking to get some fallout from that blessing. But I did have fun exploring those quiet corners of the Bay. Sneaking a photo of an egret was not so easy. I'd pull my camera from it's little waterproof box, get it focused right about the time the current would turn me away from my quarry. I'd set the camera in my lap, steer the bow back around just in time for the damn bird to fly off. *sigh* I WILL get better at this.
I pulled out of the water about noon and called Hope, who had planned to come down and demo a kayak or two. When it turned out she was uneasy being out there alone, I put back in and joined her on the water.

So I've done it. I loaded. I unloaded. I put in, took out and loaded up again. By. My. Self. YES! I say to heck with the box. I have successfully built a staircase out of my rut.

SET AN OPEN COURSE FOR THE VIRGIN SEA

In my quest for movement, I have once again put myself on the water. Sunday morning I was on Big Lagoon, in the belly of a kayak, taking another paddling lesson, this time from Marna Powell of Kayak Zak’s. She came highly recommended.

When I set the goal to bring movement to my life, I presumed kayaking would get my upper half moving…arms, shoulders, maybe my torso. But that’s not all folks!. Marna taught me (and one other student) about the use of our legs and buns in maneuvering and controlling the vessel. We squeezed (my bun-muscles felt that). We pushed. We leaned – actually we edged. We paddled around the lagoon for three hours.

I love the water in any form but don’t necessary want to be IN it if it's moving fast. Surfing is the perfect example; I love surfing but, for me, it’s a spectator sport. No big waves for this girl but it fascinates me to watch braver souls take on the curls. I love a raging river – from the shore. Sea-kayaks are the perfect pace for me. I’m attracted to kayaking for the quiet. For the still water and calm coves. On Big Lagoon, we paddled to an area below the Rancheria where trees were filled with cormorant nests. Silly me, I presumed that cormorants, being sea birds that I generally see on rocks, do their nesting on the rocks. Not the double crested cormorant, apparently. Bobbing on the water below, we gazed up at dozens of trees filled with hundreds of nests, listening to the squawks and chattering of the parents and their rather large offspring. It cemented in my mind why I want to do this. I love those calm corners of the world where you can join with nature. To be in places not accessible on foot. Of course, I wasn’t sure if I’d be getting wet on this particular lesson so opted against my camera. I won’t make that mistake again.

Marna doesn’t need my help to drum up business but I pass on the recommendation to anyone interested in learning to kayak. She’s very patient and enthusiastic about this sport. I plan on taking the “Rescue and Recovery” class from her next month. That time I WILL be getting wet because I need to know that, even if I don’t intend to go in the water, I can get back in my craft if I do. Just in case.

IF MONICA CAN DO IT.....

Except for soggy behind syndrome, I came out of my second (and third) kayaking experience relatively unscathed. And, yes, Monica finally got out on the bay. My oldest daughter was working a remote radio booth at a kayak demo day on Sunday. The stores that were doing the demos are good customers of the radio station and she was enjoying some good-natured ribbing from a coworker and the store owners. Monica does NOT do water in which the contents are in question. She doesn’t want to SEE what’s down there but she REALLY doesn’t want to NOT see them either. Anyway, they had a nice Hobie Mirage kayak with pedals and they convinced her to try it. And she DID! Yeah Monica. She was hell on pedals, scooting herself out beyond the Samoa bridge and back. Then they used her as a good example of .... "Seeee? Monica did it and if Monica can do it ANYBODY can do it."

I came down to the dock with some trepidation after a virgin voyage at the last Paddlefest. I took beginner lessons from HSU Center Activities and while it was really fun, it was also a little scary. I didn’t dress correctly (who knew "cotton kills") and it was a little chilly. I was nervous and afraid of embarrassing myself. It was a regular enclosed deck kayak so I had the “ingress and egress” issues one would expect but a basically positive experience. However, I was by no means relaxed on my second time out. In fact, the longer I had to wait (we’re talking mere minutes here but it feels like SO much more when you’re nervous), the more ambivalent I became. The Outdoor Store staff were great and put me into a Hobie Quest “sit on top” model as requested. The ingress was much easier than with the enclosed model. I grabbed the paddle and off I went towards the Samoa Bridge then west to Woodley Island. Got fairly close to a few egrets and had a lovely conversation with a seal. Came back and tried a second model, a Caper, just for comparison. I do enjoy the quiet and the ability to get into little still-water spots you can’t access on foot.

I was REALLY intrigued by the fact that Monica’s co worker had paddled in that morning by putting in at slough near his house in Myrtletown and coming in on the water. That’s TOO awesome. Guess this means the expense of the kayak and, of course, a roof rack and proper pants. I’ll need a “dry sak” for a camera because I can’t go ANYWHERE without a camera. Ooh boy….this could get pricey, huh?