Fitting out the Woodie, Part I

There was once a book (or was it a play?) called something like, “I Love You, You’re Perfect, Now Change.” Such is the story of my new kayak, a CLC Shearwater. I’ve been in love with this kayak since I first paddled one, and the one I picked up recently from a guy in Massachusetts immediately became my favorite boat. Still, a wood boat cries out for custom outfitting, particularly since the guy who built this one had fitted it out for his 6’ 4” frame (not my height!) and with a bias towards form over function (for example, no deck lines). So, while I’m enjoying paddling it as-is, I’m slowly modifying it to my tastes. So far I’ve added forward deck lines: bungies and perimeter grab-lines. I ripped out the NRS seat pad he had put in (what did he glue that thing in with???) and put in a thicker, more contoured seat with some hip pads. This seat is more comfortable, plus the inch or so of added height gives me better layback clearance for rolling. Currently I’m fabricating some thigh braces. The boat originally had them, but the builder cut them out in an attempt to create more room for himself in the boat. Sad to say, the thigh braces I’m making look pretty bad so far. I’m not the world’s most skilled fiberglass/epoxy worker and there are some bubbles, drips, and the coat is uneven. They’re structurally fine and I expect the appearance will shape up with some sanding and another coat of epoxy. If not, I might opt to put a coat of marine black paint on them.

Still on the “To Do” list for the boat: adding a day hatch, which will entail re-doing the rear deck lines, perhaps adding a deck-mounted compass, and (this may wait for winter), adding a skeg. Each step is making an already perfect boat better.

Lake Anna Family Campout

About once per year I convince the family to go camping. That’s long enough for them to forget the details of the last trip, and so they agree. Actually, Ted would camp every weekend, particularly if he got to drive to the campground. It’s Valerie and David who need convincing – anyplace without WiFi or A/C is indistinguishable from Guantanamo Bay in their eyes. This year we headed for Lake Anna State Park. The park added camping just a few years ago, and it’s quite nice campground – large sites, clean bathhouses, lots of trees. As a compromise we booked in a camper cabin rather than a tent site. That way Valerie would have a somewhat real bed and a ceiling fan.

The ride down was a challenge. We hit enormous traffic. The drive, which is under 100 miles, took over four hours. I was coming down with a cold and started to get really tired in the stop-and-go traffic. Valerie took over driving and I promptly fell asleep for the rest of the ride down I95 – good thing, actually, since I think it helped my energy level for the rest of the weekend. Checking in was easy; dinner was a feast of hot dogs and chips. Ted and I took a walk in the dark down to the lake – really pretty. Friday night I slept like a log. Valerie, deprived of her Tempurpedic mattress and air conditioning, tossed and turned.

Saturday AM I got up somewhat early, despite my cold, and hit the lake for about an hour of paddling. I came back to the campsite to – surprisingly – find everyone awake and waiting for breakfast (most of our supplies were in the car, with me). Teddy cooked pancakes “Scout Style”. I think these were, in fact, “Ted Style”, meaning that rather than make normal size pancakes he made the huge, pan-sized pancakes. I think he likes the novelty of making such huge pancakes, but in fact it’s hard to get them fully and evenly cooked. Still, who can complain about his eagerness to cook breakfast? I drew cleanup duty, which included scrubbing the “Ted Style” mess out of the pan and prep dishes. We spent the rest of the day at the lake. Having grown up going to ocean beaches, I still maintain that lake beaches aren’t “real” beaches, but over time I have grown to appreciate the relaxation of not having to worry about the kids, because there are no waves, no sea creatures and no undertow. In the late afternoon we headed back to the campsite. D & V hung out while Ted and I nabbed a couple of geocaches located a short walk from the campground. We also kept passing by a site near ours that was stuffed with 20-somethings having a grand old time (not too wild) on a group campout. I told Ted, “this could be you and your friends in a couple of years.” He likes envisioning that sort of thing – his grown-up future. Saturday night we had an enormous campfire, again courtesy of Ted. S’mores were made, of course.

Sunday morning I got up even earlier, so I could get my morning paddle in without keeping the rest of the family waiting. Another nice hour-long paddle, plus some bracing practice. This time I was back just as everyone was waking up – well, Valerie claimed never to have fallen asleep the whole night, but in fact she must have dozed off for at least a few minutes since she was just waking up when I got back to the cabin. Then we packed up and hit the road – with Ted behind the wheel on the twisty roads leading back to I95. I thought he id OK, except for drifting off the road here and there, but by the time we pulled into the Thornburg McDonalds, Valerie was at her wits end. That was the end of Ted’s driving for the day.

Was it a successful trip? By our family’s standards, I’d say so. Yeah, there was some friction here and there, but overall we had a good time, particularly when we were down at the lake. Now I’ve got to wait a year for them to forget so I can suggest it again.

Après moi, le déluge

It seems like virtually every Summer evening in the Washington area has the same forecast - warm and humid with a chance of thunderstorms. As a result, we spend a lot of time before launching debating the wisdom of going out and, these days, checking the latest forecast on someone's iPhone. This past Thursday was no exception. In fact, as we arrived at the marina it was thundering, but the storm soon passed and the iPhone indicated that the system was moving out of our area. So, we launched as usual. The paddle up the river was beautiful and as is so often the case, we congratulated ourselves on making the right decision and having a splendid evening rather than running from the specter of showers. Then it start raining.

A few sprinkles at first, coming, of course when we had already paddled quite a ways up from Columbia Island. Sprinkles soon turned into a downpour and our group took shelter under Key Bridge waiting for it to pass. Which it didn't. "It's only rain," we figured, and so pressed on, heading back down the river between Roosevelt Island and Virginia. The rain was drenching, but it was kind of fun, to tell you the truth. Then the lightening started.

I hate lightning when I'm out on the water. I was immediately reminded of the warning I had read on my Blackberry the previous weekend as I was anxiously checking the weather while stuck in a tent in the middle of an open field during a thunderstorm. "Remember," it said, "lightning is one of nature's most serious killers. Seek shelter immediately." Well, shelter was a few miles back down the river, so we pressed on. We took another break under Memorial Bridge, hoping the storm would blow by. It didn't. So, with lightning getting ever closer, we pressed on. When I began to see the bolts hitting DC not far off to our left, I shifted into an overdrive I didn't know I had. Boy, I wish I had had my GPS with me to log my speed, because I think I was paddling pretty fast. We all paddled pretty hard back to the marina, then quickly loaded our boats in the slightly slackening rain.

So, what comes next? Seeking shelter, perhaps? No way! Not when there's a whole potluck to be consumed. The storm seemed to be starting to move away, so we all gathered under the canopy at the marina's by-now closed snack bar (yes, under a big metal frame) to shoot the breeze and eat. I did have some visions of headlines in my head: "local kayakers electrocuted at marina", but as I said, the storm seemed to be moving away, so I took the chance. A glass of wine, some excellent cheese, and a little while later, all was well. The lightning flashes were off in the distance, the sangiovese was delicious, and a good time was being had by all. Perhaps the close call we had just had made things even a little tastier, a little more alive.

The forecast for this coming Thursday? Warm and humid with a chance of thunderstorms. We'll see what happens ...

Wooden Boat Wooden Boat Wooden Boat

It's here. I picked it up in Connecticut. It paddles beautifully. More later.

Over the river, not through the woods

Decided to check out the new bike path over the Wilson Bridge today. It rocks! They were even nice enough to build in some overlooks where you can pull out of the main bike path and look out over the river through built-in binoculars.

I started at Gravely Point and headed down the river to Alexandria. When I get to Old Town I'm never sure if I'm still on the bike path or not, but it doesn't matter. I just keep heading South. This time I would up on a block I hadn't been before, where I went through this weird little tunnel that took me back to Washington St and the entrance to the bridge path.

It's interesting - the Virginia side of the bike path is at the South end of Old Town, which is a very nice, colonial era town. The path entrance is itself, however unremarkable. The Maryland side of the bridge, on the other hand, is pretty much in the middle of nowhere, but has this beautiful landscaping. That seems backwards to me, but maybe they just had more room to work with on the Maryland side.

Anyhoo, once on the MD side I rode down the crushed shell bike path to National Harbor I spent some time looking out over the river. It being early Sunday morning, nothing was open. Like a rule-following fool, I walked my bike through the deserted National Harbor area because the sign said to. A couple of other cyclists rode past me while I was doing this. As far as I can tell they weren't ticketed or arrested. Anarchists. Hoodlums.

Don't cry for me Pasadena

After saying goodbye to Ted this morning - he's off to Boy Scout camp - I headed out to Ft. Smallwood Park in Pasadena, MD to do some kayaking on the Bay. I carpoooled up there with my friend Tom. That always adds to the experience, both because Tom's a nice guy and because he literally strokes the dashboard of his well-worn Saturn station wagon to coax it to keep going for one ... more ... trip.

The launch site for this trip is a new one - well, at least kayak access is. Our trip organizer, Gina, lives nearby and wanted to introduce folks to this new launch. Sixteen of us in total, from all directions, showed up, and no one but Gina had been there before. I'd say Ft. Smallwood's kayak launch coming out party was a success.

The conditions were choppier than predicted. 1-2 foot waves, and quite confused in places, making it hard at times to maintain direction. I guess this was a result of a combination of wind, boat wakes and tidal currents, as the wind wasn't strong enough to have caused this much chop. Whatever the source, it was a good opportunity for me to get some practice in slightly heavier waters.

We started out juct about at the confluence of the Patapsco River and the Chesapeake Bay, paddled up the Patapsco a bit and then into some creeks. This isn't a pristine rural area - the shorelines are developed (with neat little cottages!), and you're never out of site of the smokestacks from an electrical plant and a steel mill - plus Baltimore. There was plenty of boat traffic, including a steady stream of cigarrette boats. Still, it's always great to be out on the Bay. Perhaps my favorite part was poking up some creeks and discovering some marinas stocked with old boats - some being restored, some simply decaying in place, some scuttled.

12.1 miles total.

Sunday Morning Loop

Sunday morning I woke up early as usual. It was a beautiful day and I knew it would be several hours before the rest of the family woke up. Kayak? Boy, I wished I had loaded the boat on top of the car the night before, as I was feeling just a little too lazy to deal with it right at the moment. Besides, the overhead of a paddling trip - loading, driving to the river, driving home, unloading - would take more time than I felt like investing in the morning's outing. I decided to have breakfast, read the paper and think up an alternate plan.

How about biking? Well, that would have a lot of the same overhead -- but wait, there's a bike trail two blocks from my house! And I've heard that the county has built a new connector trail from the terminus of my local trail to the Mt. Vernon trail. I decide that the W&OD / Mt. Vernon / Custis Trail loop is exactly what I the doctor ordered and in a few minutes I'm out the door. It's 7:10 AM.

The first 4.5 miles of the ride are familiar ground, as this is my usual running / biking / walking turf, and pleasantly downhill ground to boot. When I get to the bottom of the W&OD trail in Shirlington, sure enough, there's a sign for the new connector trail. Let me tell you, this new trail is a great thing. Connecting between the W&OD and Mt. Vernon trails used to mean riding through the streets in a somewhat ugly neighborhood and for me, inevitably getting lost. Now it's smooth sailing. Exit the W&OD, turn right, turn left at the Weenie Beanie, go around the Exxon and you're golden.

The Mt. Vernon trail has always been my favorite section of this loop. It takes you right along the river, alongside National Airport (that's Reagan National for all you friends of Ronnie, or DCA for you ATC types) and past some of my local kayaking put-ins. I took a break at Graveley Point Park, which has the dually cool location of being on the Potomac in sight of all the monuments and unbelievably close to the north end of the main runway at National. The spot is a popular local attraction just because of the experience of hearing/feeling/seeing the planes take off. It's really loud, they're really low, and it's great fun. I had the foresight to bring a small thermos of coffee. So I plop down at a picnic table by the water's edge (a little off the flight line) and relax with my coffee.

Much as I hate to leave that spot, I get going again after a bit and face the icky part of the ride - the undulating hills along the Custis Trail from the river back up to my house. Up and down. Up and Down. Up and Down. Up over Lee Highway and down. Up over I66 and down. Up for no apparent reason and down. The granny gears become my friends.

I get home a bit after 9. As expected the rest of the family is just getting going. In summary: 18 miles, exploration of a new trail, and a good cup of coffee in a striking spot.