Cherry Blossoms

We wouldn't let a little plague get in the way of a cherry blossom paddle, are we??

This year planning a cherry blossom paddle was complicated by the fact that right about peak blossom time the nation was spiraling down into the coronavirus pandemic. Restrictions were changing every day and we were all a little nervous about paddling. This being the DC area, we had to watch what three different jurisdictions were mandating, as some of us come from Virginia, others from Maryland, and we paddle in DC. In the end, while Stay At Home orders weren't yet in place, Suzanne (rightly, I think) decided that it wasn't cricket for her to drive all the way from Baltimore to paddle. Tom, who is leading the global crisis response from his basement*, wasn't available to break away and go paddling. That left Rob, Jim and me (two retirees and one guy who's not particularly motivated about his job) to do a nice Thursday afternoon paddle.

We were of course diligent about personal distancing (née social distancing). Suzanne had warned us that there was a Meetup outing at Columbia Island earlier that same day and sure enough, we ran into them on their way back. Personally, in a time of pandemic I wouldn't have organized a big Meetup group outing of any kind, but y'know, vive la différence. To tell you the truth, it's a little much to be calling them a "group", as they seemed to have been paddling in a pretty dispersed way, with kayakers straggling back in ones and twos over a long period of time. When we arrived there were a few people already on shore, and when we launched 45 minutes later there were still people coming in. It made it a little hard to maintain personal distance at the boat ramp - I spent a bunch of time sitting at a picnic table away from the ramp just to stay out of the way of close contact with returning paddlers.

The three of us set out into what had been forecast to be calm conditions, but as we headed south under the 14th St. bridge the wind and waves started to pick up. This made me a little nervous as I had worn my wet suit rather than dry suit and the water was still a little cool for a wet suit. Under benign conditions it wouldn't have been an issue at all, but we soon found ourselves paddling into waves tall enough to roll up over our decks and land in our laps. We really weren't at any significant risk - conditions like we encountered are not a challenge for us, but of course in my head I was thinking about the 0.1% chance that a wave might catch me and capsize me, in which case I would have wound up pretty cold! By the way, COVID-19 was the reason I didn't wear my dry suit. My suit has an unusual configuration. It zips across the back, and it really takes a partner to zip it for you - and with 6 ft. social distancing in force, I didn't want to ask anyone to stand right next to me and zip me in and out of the thing.

Anyway, we strained our way down the river, checking out the pretty blossoms along the way. When we reached Hains Point we took a short break then started back. I had been in the rear the whole way downriver (into the wind/waves) but on the way back the waves were coming from behind us and I started to catch some nice rides surfing the waves. I like to think that at least part of that was based on skill - on knowing how to stay on top of a wave and ride it - though Jim later attributed it to the hull shape of my boat. In any case, I wound up far out in front. I had to keep moving at least somewhat to stay stable, and as slowly as I tried to paddle I kept staying way out in front (I did keep checking behind me to keep an eye on where I was relative to Rob and Jim).

Finally, just below the 14th Street Bridge Jim caught up with me. He and I started chatting (that was when he complemented my kayak's ability to surf). Per our plan, we crossed under the bridge and then prepared to cross the river paralleling the bridge. We stopped to let Rob catch up with us and suddenly realized that he was no longer in sight. Where the heck was Rob?

We turned around and paddled back a little bit looking to see if we could find him, but didn't see anything. Then Jim noticed what looked to be someone clinging to the Hains Point fence a ways down the river. Whuh oh. We took off back downriver towards whatever/whoever that was - Jim damn near gave himself a heart attack, he was paddling so hard. When we approached we realized this was not, in fact, Rob. Rather, it was some guy launching some tiny motorized skiff over the fence. How he got there, how he got the boat into the water, and why he thought that was a good place to launch were all beyond me, but as soon as we realized it wasn't Rob it was no longer my problem. What was my problem was that there was still no sign of Rob anywhere.

I know from long experience that Rob likes to break off and check out things that interest him, and he's a fast paddler so he has the speed to go off exploring and then get back to a group. So at that point we figured that most likely Rob had gone off on his own and we'd find him at the marina, and if not it would be time to call 911. There also would have been a lot of explaining to do to Rob's wife, who had accompanied him as a chance to go for a walk and get a change of scenery from being trapped in the house.

The 14th St. bridge is actually five different spans, and with all the different supporting piers the sight lines in the area of the bridge(s) are pretty poor. Rob had indeed broken off early to cross the river and at the point when we first realized we couldn't see him he probably wasn't all that far from us but we couldn't see him with all the obstructions from the bridge spans. Likewise, he had seen us cross under the bridge, but then from his perspective we disappeared as well (likely when we went back to look for him) and so he then turned around to go look for us (on the other side of the river, though). Eventually we all spotted each other and we made it back to the marina without further incident.

Rob, not invisible after all!

Lessons-learned:

1) We should have had our radios on. I had mine with me and eventually turned it on. When Rob lost track of us he tried to hail us on the radio, but that was before I turned mine on, and Jim didn't have his.

2) Stay with the f*cking group.

3) Always maintain situational awareness of the others in your group.

4) Even under the worst of circumstances, cherry blossoms are beautiful!

We all made it back safe and sound. We each loaded our own boats (no touching each others' gear), said our six foot distant goodbyes, and vowed to paddle again the following week. Alas, by a week later the Stay At Home orders were in effect and all of our usual launches were closed. I'm glad we got out when we did - who knows when we'll be able to paddle again?


*OK, "leading" is an exaggeration, but it's safe to say he's contributing more to the response than many members of the Administration