First Kayak Trip of the Year

This winter started out harshly. The "bomb cyclone" in January treated us to single digit temperatures coupled with strong winds. This makes the recent thaw - temps in the 40's and 50's (not to mention a few days with temps in the 70's!) - feel really like springtime. The river, frozen solid six weeks ago, started to reach the 50's as well. It was time to go kayaking!

Dressed for biking during the "bomb cyclone" super cold weather. I look ready for the planet Hoth.

Unfortunately, no one was available to go paddling last Saturday and it was a rainy day besides, so I didn't go. I awoke Sunday still burning with paddling fever, but the morning was rainy and chilly - not pleasant weather. Fortunately, the rain abated mid-day and I headed out on my own to go paddling.

Getting ready to launch

Yes, yes, you should never paddle solo, particularly in wintertime. Yes, yes, a person with my medical conditions probably shouldn't paddle solo. But life is a balance of risk and reward. After all, last summer I came closer than I expect to being shot while doing the seemingly safe activity of playing music at a festival. Today it almost happened again - someone opened fire outside the White House a mere ten minutes after I passed by on my bicycle. The lesson I draw from this is that you shouldn't be afraid to live your life - risk can find you at any time and place, so why cower from it?

First, I loaded the kayak onto the car and spent some time measuring how tall the car was with the kayak on it. I'm curious to see if I can fit into the garage at work with the kayak on the car. My method required the use of a level and, needless to say, my level was mysteriously missing (I'm betting David has it) but fortunately I have a backup. In fact, my backup level is a thing of beauty - an old wooden level inherited from my father's toolkit. The highest point on the kayak measured 6' 2". Now, to see how tall the garage is ...

I launched from Columbia Island. After going through the extreme contortions required to zip my dry suit unassisted (whose idea was it to put the zipper across the back?!) I launched and headed up the Boundary Channel. The channel is a few hundred feet wide at its widest and is extremely protected - I figured it was the safest route for me to take. Well, then again, it's pretty isolated. While I was unlikely to run into problems from wind or waves there, was never far from shore, and for most of it I could probably walk to shore if I capsized, if anything had happened back there who knows how long it would have been before anyone found me.

The days of rain combined with high tide put plenty of water in the river and the channel, which dries out at low tide, had plenty of water in it. The lowest spot, which is frequently barely navigable, had several feet of water depth. No problem. As a note, conditions were quite different a week later after our crazy windstorm. When I biked down the Mount Vernon Trail on my way to Kitty's Sushi Roll ride I was amazed at how the persistent Northwest wind had blown the water out of the river. The outermost spans of Memorial bridge were dry. The southern tip of Roosevelt Island extended half-way to Memorial Bridge. Rocks I had never seen before poked up above the surface. A little farther downriver it even made the news. But no problem today. Variability of conditions is one reason I never get tired of kayaking the same stretch of the river.

I basically did the Thursday night Pirates of Georgetown paddle, going up around Roosevelt Island. My only time on the river proper was coming back down the east side of Roosevelt; however, conditions were glassy calm and so I wasn't very concerned. Once down at the bottom of the island I ducked back into the protected waters of the Boundary Channel. Because it's usually navigable only at high tide it's rare to be able to take it both out and back.

It felt great to be back on the water!

Last Paddle of the Year Ends in a Bailout

Tall Tom, Rob, Suzanne and I decided to squeeze in one last kayak outing this year. Actually, Frank was supposed to have been a part of it too, which is an important point even though he wound up not going. Tom had originally suggested a one-way trip to the George Washington Grist Mill, and then I suggested a round-trip out of Pohick instead. Suzanne and Frank weren't all that happy about the idea of having to drive that far and so as a last-minute alternative I suggested an Anacostia trip out of Gravelly Point. My suggested route starts and ends with a one mile crossing of the Potomac and so is a little more open water than I like to do in the winter, but (a) we were running out of time for planning, and (b) the forecast looked pretty benign - air and water temps in the 40's, and 10 MPH winds. That's barely enough to ruffle my hair. All 1/16 of an inch of it.

On the water just before turning around

The four of us launched a little after 10 AM and found the Potomac already rocking and rolling beyond what had been forecast. Still, the waves were only maybe a foot, a foot and a half, it was supposed to calm down as the day went on so we continued. Once across and into the smaller, more sheltered Anacostia River, things settled down and we were fine. In fact, we were getting a nice push from the wind, something we needed to keep in mind in terms of the effort it was going to take to get back.

At the Anacostia Rowing Club

Poor Suzanne! First of all, we took her on a tour of the ugly section of the Anacostia and turned around right before the pretty part. Second, she was having trouble keeping her hands warm the whole time. I've had that problem for the past couple of winters myself, and it's both painful and scary. When your hands are cold you don't really feel you have full control of the paddle. The paddle is, as the name suggests, an integral part of paddling and trying to kayak with numb hands feels a little like driving with your eyes closed. Rob and I were trying out these Greenland style over-gauntlets. These are arm-length waterproof mittens. Tom has sworn by them for years (we jokingly refer to them as "opera gloves" because of their length) and this year Rob and I each bought a pair. I have to say, that they really help. Though it also helped to have a fresh, dry pair of gloves (worn underneath the gauntlets) to change into mid-way through the trip.

Helping Suzanne while she adjusts her gloves

I also learned that it's better to have a syndrome with a name than just symptoms. As I mentioned, I've been suffering with cold hand problems for several years. The response from my fellow paddlers has been, generally, "get better gloves and harden the f*ck up." Suzanne, on the other hand doesn't have cold hands. She describes herself as having Reynaud's Syndrome, which sounds much more medical and therefore gets her lots of sympathy. 

Our planned turnaround point was the ramp at Anacostia Park; however when we got there we found it clogged with debris. For the record, we were wearing dry suits and could have walked through that debris with no issues; however, Tom's sensibilities were offended by the condition of the ramp and so he insisted that we take our break instead over on the other side of the river at the Anacostia Rowing Club. The docks there were pristine and lovely, except for being heaped end to end with giant piles of goose crap. Yes, rolling out of our boats onto docks covered in shit was deemed by the group to be less disgusting than walking out through some empty bottles. Go figure.

Walk through this, or smear ourselves with bird poop?

The rowing club had some Porta-Potties, which was nice. I used one for its intended purpose, and also used the opportunity of being out of the wind to get a snack out of my PFD and unwrap it. I had brought along one of the brownie flavored Clif Bars that Ted left behind when he moved out. I probably was a little bit of a sight, exiting the Porta-Pot chewing on a big, brown bar.

Well, contrary to the forecast the wind kept building. It was a slog getting back. We were making only about 1.5 MPH according to Tom's GPS. As we approached Buzzard Point we could begin to feel the effects of the larger water and could see the whitecaps on the Potomac. When I later checked the wind data it said that it this point it was blowing 25 MPH with gusts to 35.  We only had another 1.5 miles or so to go, but it was all going to be open water with beaming or quartering waves, which are everyone's least favorite conditions. In warm weather that would have made for an unpleasant but doable crossing. But it was cold. Suzanne's hands were freezing up again. I was fighting a cold I had picked up in New Orleans and so was a little under the weather. I'm betting that by themselves, Tom and Rob would have gone for it, but as a group we decided to bail.

Hauling out at James Creek Marina

We paddled into James Creek Marina, which we found to be deserted. We hoisted ourselves and our boats onto the high docks and carried everything out into the parking lot. Then Tom and Rob (whose cars were both set up to carry two kayaks) called an Uber and rode - still in their dry suits - across the river to get their cars. Suzanne and I waited with the kayaks. It was pretty darn cold and windy out at this point. Fortunately we both had Thermoses of warm drinks. The place we were waiting was a public park of some sort and it had bathrooms. Unfortunately, they were locked; however, miraculously, Suzanne walked up to the ladies room, entered a guess at the code and got it right on the first try. She said it's a pretty common code at marina bathrooms - and apparently she hangs around the docks enough to know the ins and outs. 

Ma in her kerchief, and I in my cap, had just settled in thanks to a security gap

Just as a mathematical aside, if you assume that the combo is three individual button pushes out of five buttons, there's a one in sixty chance of getting it right on the first try (Simplex mechanical locks can't repeat numbers in the combination); however, the lock can use longer combinations, including multiple buttons pushed at the same time. This article claims that the five button Simplex lock has 1,082 possible combinations. That's not super high security, but a one in 1,082 chance of getting the combo right is reasonably impressive. Anyway, having access to the heated bathroom was a godsend while we waited for Tom and Rob. 

In short order they returned with their cars. We loaded all four boats onto the two cars and ferried them back across the river to Gravelly Point, where Suzanne and I moved our boats to our own cars, and we all wished each other a Happy New Year and a coming year full of lots of good adventures. How cold were we at this point? Tom and Rob drove home still bundled in their dry suits. I got out of mine because I knew I wanted to stop for food on the way home, but I made full use of the luxo features of my car - heated seats, heated steering wheel - to warm me up on the drive.

The year had a memorable finale!

Marshall Hall Paddle

It was something of a revelation to be reminded how great kayaking can be. My recent paddling experiences have been sporadic and not entirely positive. I didn't paddle at all in January (except for the pool). In December I went on an unnervingly foggy paddle followed by an uncomfortably windy paddle. November was Chickahominy, which I only semi-participated in (and I paddled but didn't camp), and a paddle where my hands got so cold I had to turn back early. It's been one semi-bummer outing after another.

But today was glorious. Five of us (and Tall Tom, Tim, Don, Linda and I) launched out of Marshall Hall in Maryland. It was in the 30's - chilly, but not outrageous. The river was calm and the winds were light. Linda had organized the trip with Don as the leader. I had never met Don before, but I knew that he's one of the nutcase badasses who participates in events like the Florida Water Tribe Challenge, which requires a week of paddling day and night (he said he sleeps every other night), not to mention a 40 mile portage, to paddle all around Florida. So, when Don asked, "is this going to be as fast or slow day?" I knew that what he was really asking was "how much do I have to handicap myself so as not to be completely bored out of my skull paddling with y'all?" He wound up paddling his kayak with a canoe paddle, which I guess made it sufficiently hard to be interesting (or at least bearable).

At the mill

We first paddled across the river and up Dogue Creek to George Washington's grist mill and distillery, a recently restored part of the Mt. Vernon estate (and not continuous with the main property anymore). The place was closed (alas, no whiskey tasting) but we got out and walked around anyway. There were some picnic tables there and so we stopped for an early lunch. Linda always brings food - today it was curried chicken sandwiched. I contributed molasses cookies left over from the shiva minyan. I discovered that three day old molasses cookies,when stored at freezing temperatures in a kayak hatch, get quite hard, They were hard to chew until you worked them a little bit. Oops, They still tasted good.

Lunch break

After lunch we hopped back into our boats to continue on. We had to walk our boats out from shore to get into them, meaning that our boots got filled with water. Cold water. Remarkably, I had been able to keep my hands warm by using both gloves and pogies (and a separate, dry pair of gloves on lad) but the cold water started to make my feet feel cold, which got worse as the afternoon wore on.

Chunky water

We paddled back out into the river and down around the bottom of Ft. Belvoir. The water in this area was incredibly chunky, clogged with sticks, branched, logs, trash and various other flotsam, all washed into the river by melting snow from a recent heavy snowstorm. We came around into Pohick Bay and headed towards the beach at Pohick Bay Regional Park where we would take another break. When we landed at Pohick the sun was out and it had become quite a lovely day. I was plenty warm except for my feet, which had gotten progressively colder since we left the distillery and were now tingly cold. I walked up to the men's room and was happily surprised to find it open. I was doubly happy when I realized it was heated. I wasn't going to spend our whole break in the men's room, but it was nice to linger in there for a minute or two to soak up some warmth. I was feeling pretty good all over, except for my feet, which were still freezing. Then it dawned on me. Not only was the bathroom heated, but the sinks had hot water. I pulled off my boots and filled them with hot water from the sink. After letting them sit for a few minutes I dumped them out and slipped my feet into the now toasty warm boots. Ahhhhhh.

Warm feet are happy feet

From there the trip back was uneventful. Due east across the Potomac, then up the Maryland shoreline back to Marshall Hall. We loaded up, said our goodbyes, and went on our way. On the trip home I feasted on my remaining hot tea and leftover snacks - and a Frappucino I had in the car.

About 13 miles, which is pretty good for an off-season, out of shape paddle.

A Short Hike in Great Falls

Yesterday I felt the need to get outdoors for a bit. I headed to Great Falls. Parked at the Difficult Run parking lot, hiked around into Great Falls Park, down to the river, then up the Ridge Trail to the Old Carriage Road. Hiked up the Old Carriage Road a ways, then turn around and used that as a shortcut back to the parking lot. A nice loop.

Most of the trees are bare, but this one holdout over the gorge was still wearing its fall colors.

The gray, late fall day seemed almost black and white. This picture of leaves glistening along the trail is not black and white - the scene is just almost devoid of color.

Not much to say about this one. Just really neat light as we paddled the Boundary Channel last Thursday.

The Mt. Vernon Trail Leads to Mt. Vernon

This past Sunday I once again varied from my Sunday morning paddling tradition in favor of the bike. I had planned to go on a Potomac Pedalers ride out in Nokesville but was lazy about driving an hour to get to a ride and a little uncertain about whether I'd be left behind (I'm still slow).

Instead I drove to Columbia Island Marina (as usual), but for trail rather than river access. I headed south down the Mt. Vernon Trail all the way to its terminus at Mt. Vernon. A nice ride, mostly along the river. Lots of little curves and switchbacks and lots of people - made for a slow ride. About 30 miles in all, which is a significant distance for me. I was still a little sore three days later when I rode to work.

All that time adjacent to the river made me want to get on it. Tuesday morning I made a spur of the moment decision to go paddling after work. Threw the boat on the car and had a nice paddle (the usual Columbia Island to Roosevelt Island circuit).

Active Weekend

Well, this was certainly an active weekend. Saturday morning Valerie and I did our monthly 5K. This month’s event was held in conjunction with the Arlington County Fair and the course was primarily several laps around the fairgrounds. We both expected a fairly easy course, since the race was held at 8 AM and the weather forecast didn’t call for extreme heat. Unfortunately, the morning was humid and the temperature climbed quickly as the sun rose in the sky, so it would up being a slow, sticky slog with some significant hills. Still, as I walked from the car to the packet pick-up I enjoyed the unusual sight of people watering livestock in the TJ Center parking lot. Cows at TJ. Cool.

Valerie crossing the finish line

Sunday morning we were out the door early again, this time to go paddle boarding with Ted at Key Bridge Boathouse (nee Jack’s). My limited experience with paddleboards has taught me that they’re more stable than they seem, and so one of the big considerations is the mental game of getting over your feelings of wobbliness. At first it looked like Valerie wasn’t going to make that mental leap and was going to be stuck just sitting on the board, but she pushed through, stood up on the board, and did a really good job! By the end of the trip she was moving at a pretty good pace and even said she’d do it again. Ted, of course, showed off his mad SUP skills..

Huh. Who'd have thunk it?

Mother and child reunion

Sunday afternoon I had signed up to go on a bike ride with the NOVA Casual Bike Meetup Group; however, that ride got cancelled at the last minute. It’s a good thing I checked my email since I could easily have missed the cancellation and shown up and waited at the Shirlington departure point. Instead I just rode by myself. Home, up over Chain Bridge, down the C&O towpath and Captial Crescent into Georgetown, followed the river down, crossed back into Virginia over Memorial Bridge, connected to the Mt. Vernon Trail by scurrying across the GW Parkway like Frogger with a bicycle (there must be a better way to do this!), then up to Rosslyn and out the Custis Trail to home.

I Almost Missed November

I try to get out in my kayak at least once every month of the year. The deep winter months of December, January and February can present a challenge for kayaking - busy schedules, polar vortex temperatures, and ice bound rivers. November isn't usually a problem, but thanks to a succession of minor medical maladies and just a busy schedule I have been off the water since late October. Today, just in the nick of time I managed to get in a November paddle, thanks to Deke and his cleverly named WASUP-DOCK (Washington Area Stand Up Paddleboarders - District of Columbia Kayaker) Meetup group. The unusually warm weather helped too.

I signed up for a trip  around the "toe of the boot" of the Mason Neck/Pohick peninsula but at the last minute almost didn't make it. One of my current maladies is a sore back - I think I injured myself hauling musical gear to Friday night's gig. Bending down and lifting is a problem when I injure my back and when I went to take my kayak off the storage rack I realized I just couldn't lift the darn thing. I almost called it quits at that point (I'd be crazy to go out kayaking with this sort of back injury, right?) but decided to persevere. I got down onto my knees and tugged the kayak off the rack onto the grass then used my kayak cart to roll it the twenty feet to the car. From there I was able to lift the bow, then the stern, into the Hullivator (I was OK as long as I only had to lift half the thing at a time). From there it was smooth sailing and I got folks to help me out at the other end.

A Pair of Eagles

Launching from Mason Neck it was Deke, Tall Tom, Linda, Ed and me (I had never met Linda or Ed before). It being wintertime the water was smooth and thick. A large number of ducks floated ahead of us, taking off en masse as we approached. As planned, we headed west through Belmont Bay, around the point into lower Occoquan Bay, then around the next point into the Potomac. I got a little concerned as we paddled since I felt a growing sciatica pain setting in on the side of my back injury. I had visions of being unable to get myself out of my boat (reminiscent of a time when I herniated a disk carrying music gear but didn't realize it until I tried - and failed - to stand up from the piano bench at the end of practice).

I'm dwelling on injuries here, but there was plenty of good stuff too. For one thing, a lot of eagle sightings. We think it was the same 2-4 eagles we kept seeing again and again. A nesting pair, we think - two together a lot. Up high in a tree. Down low on a branch. Sitting in a tree near a nest. I spotted an immature (brown foliage) eagle too. We also saw wood ducks, some herons, and later on a flock that seemed to be a mix of geese and some white bird - tundra swans? snow geese?

Scene on the River

We took a break after paddling about five miles, landing to stretch our legs and have a snack. It was at this point that we saw the geese / swans, a flock of which took off with a cool sound of massed beating wings.

Taking a break really helped my back. I felt much better as we started paddling again, which was good because we shortly hit some unexpectedly rough conditions. The wind, which had been forecast to be about 10 MPH, instead whipped up to about 20 (that's my estimate, confirmed from data I was able to find online). That kicked up some significant waves. To quote Deke's write-up of the trip, "What started out on the first half of the trip as a cake walk (with a little bit of wind for interest) turned into a different paddle on the return. Whitecaps, headwinds, broaching waves, follow[ing] seas, and even a little bit of surfing." Fortunately it never got too rough and we were never far from shore, so the wind and chop was fun, not scary.

When we got back I found my back was feeling much better than when we had started - kayaking is good medicine! I really do think the movement helps. We all said our goodbyes - until the next WASUP-DOCK adventure.

Distance: 10.7 mi

SUP'ing in the Park with Ted

Another SUP outing with Ted today. We made from Key Bridge Boathouse up to Fletcher's Cove. The roughly two mile trip took us about and hour, at least twice as long as it would have by kayak. Admittedly, it was into the wind and only my third time on a Stand-Up Paddleboard, but still ...

Ted has been doing a lot of SUP-ing this summer and definitely showed me up in terms of speed, balance and skills.

I still feel that stand-up paddleboards would make sense only in a world where canoes, rowing craft and kayaks hadn't been invented, but they sure are popular! While there was no wait at KBB for kayaks, we had to wait on line for paddleboards, as the whole fleet was in use. The line was even worse by the time we got back - I'm glad we went early.

Well, even on a goofy non-kayak watercraft it was a nice outing on a beautiful summer day. Eighty degree August days is a kind of climate change I could get into!

SUP Experiment in Georgetown

So, I've been meaning for some time to try SUP. "What's SUP?" you say? Nothing much, what's SUP with you?

<Rimshot />

SUP is stand-up paddle boarding, and it's been all the rage for the last couple of years. A lot of people who would have been casual kayakers in years past are now up SUP-ing instead. It's never seemed very appealing to me, to tell you the truth. You're paddling along standing up on a wide surf board. It's supposed to be a good workout, but it seems rather uncomfortable and limiting. 

Anyway, one Sunday Ted and I headed into Georgetown to try SUP rental, but it was so crowded and hard to park that I just gave up and went home. I hate to be thwarted, so the next day, my telework day, I planned for a long lunch break and headed for Key Bridge Boathouse. I was there and parked in under 15 minutes, as opposed to 40+ just to get there on Sunday. 

KBB is, unfortunately, no longer Jack's. It's like running into someone you know after the zombies or the Borg have gotten to them. Yes, it's still recognizable by sight, but its spirit different. The old school connection to the river is gone. Frank Baxter and the various river rat hobos who worked the place (or just spent time there) - all gone, replaced by college kids in matching t-shirts and an impersonal, efficient rental process reminiscent of a fast food restaurant. 

All that notwithstanding, I was soon standing on a paddle board, heading upriver towards the Three Sisters Islands. I was pleasantly surprised to find that I had no problem with balance on the thing. I got up and down from my knees several times without incident. I shouldn't judge first time paddle boarding against kayaking skills honed over the years, but boy, paddle boarding is SLOW. It took me about 30 minutes to cover the short distance from Key Bridge to the islands. I had a little current against me, and every time the wind blew it brought me to a standstill, as when you're on a board you act as a pretty big sail. 

As expected, the trip back downriver was faster as I had the wind and current with me, and I paddled back to Key Bridge Borghouse -- oops, Boathouse -- without incident.

Can you sense a lackluster response on my part to my SUP experiment?

Provisional Verdict: Meh. Better than not being on the river, but much less sensible than a kayak.

Long-term prognosis: I'll likely try it again so as not to make a snap judgement.

Numb skulls?

Sunday morning I went out for one of my typical early morning quick paddling jaunts: launch at Columbia Island and head up the river a ways. It's nice having a marina so close to home - early Sunday mornings it's under 15 minutes driveway to dockside.

Anyway, I noticed a lot of activity on the water as I headed past Georgetown. A number of crew launches out, and an endless stream of single person sculls heading up the river. Float markers everywhere. It turned out there was some sort of rowing regatta going on.

I made it up the river with no problem, but on the way back down I really felt like I was dodging traffic. I followed the DC shore to keep out of the lanes marked by the floats along the Virginia side, but that route had me crossing the sculls' launch trajectory and also put me right in the path of the maniacal racing canoes and kayaks from the Washington Canoe Club. Once south of Key Bridge I decided to get out of traffic by heading back over to the Virginia side and following the river side of Roosevelt Island. However, before I knew it a volunteer in a launch was telling me over a megaphone that I was in one of their lanes and had better get out of the way before the sculls got there.

I have no problem sharing the river and I love the fact that there's a whole community of paddling people who enjoy being out on the water. But part of me, I have to admit, was really annoyed at the way the regatta took over the river Sunday morning. I was out there for a relaxing early morning paddle but wound up feeling like I was trespassing. Please, rowing people, remember to share the river nicely with the rest of us!