Google Maps Suggests a Paddling Trip

Someone on the Kayak Building Bulletin Board pointed out that if you get driving directions from Google Maps to go from somewhere in the U.S. to somewhere in Japan, the site will gladly provide those directions. Directions from Eugene, OR to Osaka, for example produces directions which include the following:

2. Kayak across the Pacific Ocean Entering Hawaii  2,756 mi
26. Kayak across the Pacific Ocean Entering Japan  3,879 mi

As these are driving directions, I would assume the best strategy is to rent a car on the land portions of the journey rather than taking the car along on the paddling legs of the trip.

Sand Lake, Oregon

Sand Lake is, coincidentally enough, located in Sand Lake State Park, just off the Three Capes Loop, about a 15 minute trip north of Pacific City.

The put-in is just over the bridge (if you can call it a bridge) as you go into the park. Kim and I arrived about an hour after what should have been high tide. Most of the lake (estuary, really) bottom was exposed and a slight current was going towards the ocean. After paddling in a channel for a couple hundred feet, we had to walk our boats for the next couple hundred feet. We were able to paddle about 50 feet until the water was again too shallow. Kim towed her boat through the shallow water and muck and got to water deep enough to float. I walked out to assess the situation, and as we talked, the direction of the flow changed.

Off we went, paddling through mostly shallow water towards the mouth of the estuary. A few times, we bottomed out and had to back paddle and pick a deeper route. The strong current and deepening water left no doubt about the incoming tide. We paddled to the gap in the dune where the estuary exchanges with the open ocean, beached our kayaks, and took a quick walk out to the beach.

It was a gorgeous day -- calm, sunny, with a temperature in the seventies. After our look-see on the beach, we got back in our kayaks and rode the incoming tidal flow back to the put in point. The water in the lake was completely calm for the whole paddle. By the time we got back to the put-in (about an hour after we started), what had been exposed land was covered with enough water to float our kayaks.

During our trip we saw egrets, blue heron, and a couple of flounders.

I would classify this paddle as easy as long as there is sufficient water in the lake. I would be wary about paddling it on the outgoing tide, as the current could be strong and one could conceivably be carried out to the open ocean.

Paddle on.

Dory Landing at Cape Kiwanda

We spent most of last week at our favorite place on the Oregon Coast, Pacific City. The fishing fleet in Pacific City is comprised of dories, vessels that are small by fishing boat standards. We were lucky to see a few of them come in from fishing. This video illustrates why they have flat bottoms.

Once the boat is on the beach, the operator backs a tilt trailer up to the front of the dory and then lurches it under the front of the boat. A winch gets the boat the rest of the way onto the trailer.

Cody

If you knew Cody, you wouldn't call him bright, brave, or very trainable. But you'd love him.

Cody was always up for an adventure, be it a walk around the block, a hike up a mountain, or a moving trip across the country. Whatever it was, it was a joy. And whatever he encountered -- as long as it wasn't something as scary as a mailbox that had been knocked over or as dangerous as the UPS man -- was to be explored until the next scent or movement caught his attention. In most of the pictures we have of him, he's looking away from the camera, his doggie attention deficit disorder preventing him from focusing on whomever held the camera. In those pictures, as in life, his mouth was usually open in the curious, disarming smile.

He was always thrilled to meet another dog and more than happy to be playful and submissive. With new people, he was shy at first, but then warmed up. When Kim went to the vet's to pick him up after he got neutered, she found him playing with the assistants. Talk about not holding a grudge!

Squirrels and a float on the water were the only things that could hold his attention. He could stare up a tree for a quarter hour after the squirrel was long gone. He would cry for you to throw the float, even if he was bordering on exhaustion -- and he was always sure to bring it back.

We got Cody as a puppy 13 1/2 years ago. He was in a kennel with 6 or 7 siblings. He was the one that didn't rush to the kennel gate. Kim said that was the one she wanted, and that was the one we took home.

A little over two years ago, Cody was diagnosed with cancer on his foot, in his spleen, and in his liver. The good doctors at the Oregon State Vet Hospital excised the mass on his foot, removed his spleen, and took out one lobe of his liver. They gave him chemo treatments as followup. The prognosis was a year at most. Last year about this time, another large tumor showed up in his liver. He was given another chemo treatment and nearly died of scepticemia. But he pulled through again. The dog who was afraid of a broken mailbox proved himself to be tough enough to surprise us all.

After the first cancer diagnosis, he went through quite a few health crises, and with each one we prepared to face the loss we knew would come sooner rather than later. But every time he rallied back to smile and wag at the prospect of a new adventure.

I could go on about the all the things Cody did -- stealing bagels and English muffins on the counter, etc., etc. -- but none of that would really get at why he was so special. So I'll just sum it up by saying that everyone who knew him recognized that he was a special dog who saw the world as good and made them see the world the same way.

Two weeks ago, he hit another health crisis and we knew it would be a matter of days. With the help of our vet, he managed one last rally and made it on vacation to the beach one last time. Before the end of the vacation, though, we knew he was at the end of his last rally. Monday our vet made a house call. He greeted her with a smile and a wag before settling down and going to sleep for the final time.

Strongback 1.0 and 1.1

Alternate title for this post: Why You should Strive to Make Every Step of the Process as Perfect as Possible

The fact that I'm using version numbers should be a not-so-subtle hint that things didn't go very well. I decided to do a box beam as described in The Stripbuilt Sea Kayak. So I got myself a sheet of plywood, ripped it into appropriately-sized boards, and then used the table saw to make the rabbets for the glued joints.

The mistakes I made were on version 1.0:

1. Rabbets were not cleanly cut. I should have checked these more closely and sawed them a second time on the areas that didn't get cut cleanly.
2. Due to some measuring mistakes, I ended up having to build it out of shorter pieces in a couple of areas. This may have made it less stable with shorter overlaps of the boards making up the sides.
   
3. I used screws as well as glue to hold it together. The screws raised the plywood a little where they went in.
4. I didn't put any internal cross pieces in to keep it from torquing.

I knew it wasn't perfect, but I thought I'd be able to get the forms adjusted on it. Wrong. The holes in the forms were not large enough to allow for the amount of adjustment I needed. So, I enlarged them a bit and rounded the corners of the box beam and belt sanded the areas that were most obviously too high, giving me strongback 1.1.

To make a long story short, after much work trying to get the forms aligned on the strongback, I was not having very good luck. I came to the humbling conclusion that my first attempt was too sloppy and that I needed to work on Strongback 2.0, which I will discuss in a future post.

Why build a sea kayak?

Ultimately, I have to blame my friend Steve. Some years ago he suggested a multiday kayak trip in the San Juan Islands. Despite the crowded coves, the power boaters who cursed us to our faces, the million ton ferry that used its air horn to encourage us to get the $#%* out of the way, and the LSD-crazed locals who nearly set the campground ablaze, I found the trip enjoyable.

The self-contained nature of the boat and the self-reliance required to move the boat across the ocean gave gave me a feeling I've only had backpacking or rock-climbing -- only more so. Since that time, my wife and I have bought recreational kayaks suitable for lakes, bays, and slow rivers, and we've managed to go on a couple of ocean day trips in rented boats. The more I've kayaked and the more I've learned, the more I have felt inclined to kayak.

Inclinations led to web searches which led me to Nick Schades excellent Guillemot Kayaks site. The voice in my head (which has served me well throughout life) said "What could be more self-reliant than paddling around in a kayak you built yourself?" After a year of drooling over these beautiful wooden boats, I ordered Nick Schade's first book The Strip Built Kayak. Finally my wife said, "Why don't you go ahead and build one?" The fact that my wife would suggest I undertake such a garage-crowding, sawdust generating activity shows that either (a) I married an encouraging, understanding woman, or (b) she just likes it better when I'm out in the garage. I firmly believe (a), but either way, I'm building a kayak now. The model I settled on is the Guillemot.

So, I ordered plans and set out on a kayak building adventure. And, an adventure it is, fraught with fits and starts. It is forcing me to learn new skills, to learn how to be patient with myself, and giving me the opportunity to buy lots of new tools. What could be better?

Back from the Dead?

An update:

Sadly, pottery as a career did not work out. While I garnered many a positive comment on my pottery, I sold almost none. I gave it a try as a career and have moved on.

I spent last fall and winter teaching part time at Lane Community College and doing a little part time programming work for The Conservation Biology Institute. Career-wise I am aiming to do ecological modeling. Towards that end, I am in the midst of a master's degree in Biology at the University of Oregon. I've been lucky enough to be part of a modeling project looking at the ecological effects of climate, human effects, and fire in the Willamette Valley. I am concentrating on the fire modeling piece of that project. This fall (just about a month from now), I will be sitting in classes with a bunch of 18 to 22 year olds. The adventure continues...