Blog

Bannerman's Early Morning

Ken Bolton — Fri, 10 May 2013 13:52:11 +0000

PP and I did a casual sprint from Long Dock at 7am May 10, 2013. I played hockey hard the night before, and I am frankly far from my peek paddling condition. Fortunately, the tide was approaching slack-before-flood (which is happening as I type this), the wind was calm, the water warm – 60F – and glassy. The sun, which rose almost two hours before we got on the water at 7:15, was bright and warm, and began burning off the fog banks that blanketed Bannerman's and the Newburgh-Beacon Bridge.

No photos from this trip, sorry. Highlights included lots of Canadian geese on the grounds and ramparts of Bannerman's, the most wonderfully irridescent head of a mallard swimming alongside his mate, and the usual group of cormorants sunning themselves on the channel marker just west of Bannerman's. Just after rounding Bannerman's and starting our trip back north, PP noticed a fin poking out of the water. We paddled up to a sixteen inch striped bass swimming on its back. Our best guess was that it was caught by one of the nearby fishermen and thrown back because of its size.

We got back to Long Dock just around 9. A red-wing blackbird – the first I have seen around Beacon – darted over my head as I "cooled my heels" in the water while straddling my back deck. We packed up our gear and were out of there by 9:15. I am now feeling blissed out, eating a muffin and sipping on coffee at Bank Square.

Long Dock to Bannerman's Island

Ken Bolton — Sun, 28 Apr 2013 20:32:51 +0000

CU and I slid into the traditional kayaks around 2pm on Saturday, April 27. The air temperature was just over 70F, and the water was just over 50F. We paddled six miles round-trip in a gentle 5 knot breeze against the very tail end of the flood. When we got down to Bannerman's at a leisurely pace of about 2mph, the current was visibly beginning to ebb over the walls of the tidal pool. On our slow return to Long Dock, we ran into DG and her flotilla of paddlers. A great treat: we saw two bald eagles soaring over the waters between Denning's Point and the shore.

CU is really into stand-up-paddle (SUP) boards. I wanted her to try a traditional Greenland kayak and paddle to get a better feel for how the paddle and boat interact with the water. We talked about the skid and carve turns, canted-blade stroke, torso rotation, keeping the elbows in tight, the importance of a loose grip, and resisting the urge to have the arms and shoulders do the work in favor of the big muscles in the legs and stomach.

These "slow" trips have been really good for me. They encourage me to focus a great deal of attention on my posture and how my blade and boat attack and interact with the water. I did a hard-leaning cross-bow pry that skidded me around a full 180 degrees with a little forward momentum to spare. As a demonstration, I did a bunch of blended strokes to show how the paddler can start with a stearing stroke and transition it into a forward stroke.

CU got a lot out of it. Hours later when we discussed the trip, she noted that her back and shoulders were less sore than she normally experiences from paddling, but her wrists were feeling it some. Remedy: loosen that grip. With heavy neoprene gloves on, the only sense that comes into contact with the paddle is vision; I can't feel the paddle beneath the gloves, the padde enters the water without felt or heard resistence, and the boat slides past the paddle so smoothly their is no sensation of pull on the paddle.

The documentary evidence, a maneuver I think of as the deep stretch in shallow water.

A great feature of our "big government", NOAA publishes excellent online coastal charts. The Hudson River from Wappinger's Creek to the GWB is required reading for local boaters.

Long Dock to Denning's Point

Ken Bolton — Fri, 26 Apr 2013 18:21:04 +0000

As of April 24, AM had not paddled yet this season. The winds were up at 15 knots from the south, the water was a touch over 50F, the air just over 60F, and the time was 6pm. With a little lubrication, AM squeezed into the skin-on-frame, dressed her skirt – with a little assistance – and made a bee-line through the sheltered waters toward the picket of fishing rods guarding the mouth of Long Dock. I slid straight-legged into the Black Pearl, dressed the tuilik, and charged after AM. We navigated the fishing lines and nosed into the waves – three feet trough-to-crest – toward Denning's Point.

This marked a first-of-the-season for me, too. I was paddling without gloves and a wetsuit. My protective gear consisted of neoprene Keen boots, a Brooks tuilik, a nose-plug, and my kayak. Per usual, the safety equipment was abundant: bilge pump, VHF radio, whistle, inflatable paddle float, hypothermia kit, Greenland paddle, and storm Greenland paddle.

AM has paddled sit-on-tops, but nothing like a traditional Greenland kayak until we met. Greenland kayaks are significantly more "tippy" than nearly all their descendents. I told AM that simply sliding your paddle into the water and letting it rest there would provide a lot of stability, which she successfully demonstrated. I asked if she was engaging her knees in the process, which she promptly did, and felt much more controlled. I asked her to loosen her grip, which is a great challenge for a beginner in "big" conditions.

Fifteen knots creates intimidating rolling white-caps. Paddling into it is a challenge for may paddlers. Some people use a skeg or rudder. My boats don't have that luxury. I had AM lean forward and away from the direction she wanted to go in order to do a skidding turn. We discussed the "canted blade" approach to the Greenland paddle, and I warned her to keep her wrists in a neutral position and try to make the boat go forward by sliding the paddle into the water and twisting her torso to keep her shoulders parallel to the paddle. That is a tough thing to communicate when you are out in it! After a quarter mile, we altered our heading in toward land to take shelter from the wind. We made good time during that run, but had to come around back into the wind to get to the tip of Denning's, which took nearly an hour.

Denning's Point was well populated with people fishing for striped bass, which are mostly through their annual migration from the ocean to their spawning beds up the Hudson. We muscled into the wind to come nealy parallel with the giant mulberry tree on the southern tip, then rafted up and let the wind blow us back north. Suddenly, one of the paddles, which we had dutifully placed between our boats, was floating slower than we were. It appeared to be floating away from toward the south, though in reality, we were floating away from it. AM took the paddle we managed to rescue, and I took off under hands power to recover the flight risk. Turning the kayak into a high wind with only my hands was a great exercise, and resulted in apprehension of the skinny stick.

The fun was just getting started! The reward for paddling into the wind is a quick trip home (unless the winds change, oy). I had been eyeballing the waves the entire way south, ready to apply some of the skills Greg & Paula had shown me. We both stepped up our game and surfed some gnar. White water bubbled under our boats. Noses pearled. We skidded downhill. I applied an aggressive cross bow draw skidding turn on a wave that tried to broach me and spun quickly (for a long boat) back onto the face. AM, at this point feeling fatigued, pumped her arms, but kept a good pace and looked strong in the waves.

AM hauled her boat up on shore and ate some homemade chili I had brought. I did some wind sprints, then dragged my boat up to the car. By this point, my pinky and ring fingers were numb with the cold. I crammed all the gear into the car as fast as I could and high-tailed it for home, where food and dog waited.

Long Dock to the Moodna Creek and Back

Ken Bolton — Mon, 15 Apr 2013 13:04:32 +0000

John, Paul, and I got out in 50F sunshine Sunday morning for a quick approximately eight mile loop from Long Dock. We fought a stiff west wind of nearly 15 knots to cross from Long Dock to Gully's on the Newburgh waterfront. We floated, paddled, and did a little surfing down to Plum Point. We then paddled under the train tracks and about a half-mile up the Moodna to a point where strainers prevented us from travelling further, within eyeshot of Route 9W. We reentered the Hudson and paddled to a point where tiny waves were breaking on the sandbar off of Plum Point, littered with downed trees. The most striking thing about the trip was the numbers of downed trees resting on that sandbar and on the shoreline of the creek. By this time, the wind had shifted to blow stiffly out of the northwest. We struggled to cross. I opted to take the wind at my beam and made good time, then turned to put the wind more to my back and got some surfing. The waves did not provide particularly good surf, but they did crash in my cockpit and create some excitement. I did a few rolls and balance braces, just to feel the cold water on my face.

Tide Race and Overfall Training

Ken Bolton — Tue, 09 Apr 2013 17:04:10 +0000

Paul and I spent April 7 paddling out of Stonington, CT, to Catumb Rocks to catch the peak of the ebb tide and ride the waves that pop up at the ledge between Fisher's Island, NY, and Napatree Point, RI. We met our coaches, Paula and Greg from Kayak Waveology, at Noah's in Stonington at 8:30 for coffee and second breakfasts, having departed Beacon before daybreak. We met our classmates. Josko is a paddler out of Wood's Hole, MA. Ivan came from Kingston, NY. Greg and Paula showed us the excellent Android Currents app. Predicted maximum current was ebbing at 2.2 knots 11:52 AM 0.7 miles (nautical?) southwest of Napatree Point.

Let me back up here a moment. When I called Greg a week ago to arrange the coaching, he asked what boat I was bringing. I told him that I planned to paddle my Black Pearl. I could immediately hear some concern over the phone, when he asked about paddling such a low-volume boat. And that made me doubt. It made me doubt my gear, my ability, and my ability to gauge my ability. I spent a lot of the week agonizing over it. Paul and I went out in a stiff breeze and bitterly cold conditions the Wednesday before. I wore the gear, including a helmet, that I anticipated wearing for our bluewater trip. By Friday, I was back to my usual cautious optimism. There must have been some residual anxiety, though, because I only slept a handful of hours Saturday night.

I believe we first set course for the mast at 41º17'30"N 71º54'10"W just east across Lords Passage from Wicopesset Island. Check out this chart. On our way out, we did some drills to practice skidding and carving turns. Greg pointed out that my low back deck appeard to act like a skeg when carving and prevented the boat from turning. I mentioned that the boat, when carved aggressively, would simply skid unless I applied pressure with my paddle on the center of my imagined turn radius, so I generally just skid.

We surfed the tide race as the water in the Long Island Sound made every effort to squeeze through the submerged rocks as it poured back into the Atlantic. A 15 knot breeze from the south helped the waves stand up a little. I was able to link a few rides up the wave-train into the ebbing tide. At one point, i found myself on a small standing wave, just enough to point my nose down and let me carve back and forth. Greg and Paula, independently, warned me about the "wall" I would encounter trying to roll up on the upstream side, and that I should try to roll up on the downstream side instead.

So why the concern from the coaches? A few reasons, naturally. They did not know me or my skill level. They asked if I had a roll, and they saw that I had the appropriate safety equipment, so certain assumptions about "seriousness" can be made. A long, skinny boat like the BP can require a lot of work to keep upright, leading to exhaustion. I have been at that point in a Greenland kayak. Near-absolute exhaustion, where the muscles that keep you upright are so tired you have to lay the boat on its side and float in order to save energy, rest, and recover.

We beached on Napatree Point to enjoy a chilly lunch with some local paddlers. Among these was Nick Schade of Guillemot Kayaks. He was paddling his Petrel Play. Looks like a fun boat! Building a strip kayak is definitely in my future, and the Play looks like a boat that could nicely round out my quiver. While on shore, we talked about where strokes should end depending on the shifting center of gravity front-to-back. When leaning far forward, the stroke must exit the water earlier to take advantage of the bow buried deeper in the water.

The air was quite cold, so we jumped back into our boats and paddled around the Point to a spot affectionately known as The Molars. A line of low rocks off the tip of Napatree Point, The Molars has surf when the conditions are right. I believe Jon Stockdill and I may have paddled through them when we did a Napatree Point trip a few years ago. The surfing was great, and we lined up with Nick's crew to take turns in the surf zone. I caught a few good waves, and even managed to link a few, I think. We talked about watching the waves ahead of you to help anticipate what the wave you are on will become, and Greg had us practice stern pries to "counter-steer" (my words) the boat. I remember doing that when surfing in a white-water boat, but had no success nailing it in the surfzone.

David Grainger got some great photos that he generously posted to his Flickr stream.

Paul looks very strong above, and you can tell that he is really moving through the water.

The water is surging up over my back deck.

Greg commented on how strong my torso rotation was, with my paddle and shoulders parallel.

On the way back to terra firma, we practiced more carving turns, and linking skids with carves.

Greg mentioned two Greenland paddle techniques that I need to experiment with. Maligiaq's "crunch" technique is what I have been doing, but there is a top-hand pushing element I can incorporate for more power. The other technique is, if I understand it, similar to the technique used with a wing paddle. This may help.

Question: How do great paddlers keep their technique in the off-season? Answer: Do not have an off-season!