Paddling around Jug Bay on the Patuxent

Over the last few years I have developed a theory. It seems that the paddlers who host often have themes they follow. Maybe they prefer quiet paddles on gentle waters. Others prefer long trips, or the wind-swept waters of the Chesapeake Bay. I have also noticed hosts sometimes have a "signature" paddle. It might be a trip that they run every year, often a highlight of the season.

DJ comes to mind with respect to a signature paddle. He first introduced me and a bunch of other paddlers to the lotus blossoms on the Mattawoman. Since that time, every year, he has run one or several events around the same annual appearance of these spectacular blooms.

I tend to think my own "signature" event is paddling Jug Bay on the Pax in the autumn. This lovely natural wetland is largely untouched by neighboring development. This means there are large swaths of wetland without houses pressing in on the sides. There are several different authorities overseeing the area, but for us it is one large wet wander-land. There are many creeks meandering into Jug Bay, giving us the open door to explore and generally poke around. The area changes dramatically with each season but autumn tends to be my favorite.

I hosted a Saturday trip, trying to catch the leaves at a color peak. I missed the peak by a bit but we had a wonderful time poking up into the Western Branch, going as far as possible. Then we stopped at the Mt Calvert House and ate lunch on the lawn before touring the house. Lastly we paddled down to Mattaponi Creek before pulling out at Selby Landing. By all accounts, a lovely day.

I enjoy the social aspect of our club. I really love visiting with Aht!

Thanks Dennis!

An Albatross! OMFG...

Have you ever noticed sea birds drafting over cars on large bridges? I have.

I have also seen their dead bodies on the side of said bridges and wondered what exactly happened to cause such a thing?

And now I have a very exact answer.

There I was, driving on to the Chesapeake Bay Bridge. Minding my own business, I promise. I watched a large sea gull draft over the car in front of me in the left lane and then enter my lane. He tilted his leading wing towards my car, seemingly planning to draft over it. Just before he crossed my hood I thought of the large boat on the roof and its ropes. "He's awfully close, I hope" BANG! Thumping coming from the roof, and then out the rearview mirror I catch a glimpse of the fellow driving behind me, and his horrified face. An instant later I see a ball of white and grey feathers tumble to the side of the road, off the back of my car.

I did not swerve, nor step on the brakes. The bridge scares me enough. I knew I was going to hit him. I guess I hoped I would not but the loud bang confirmed his demise. I hope he was a young, unmarried bird. Hopefully I did not just orphan a whole family or leave a tearful bird widow.

I felt horrible driving home. I wanted to cry and maybe even wail a little. I kept thinking about that poem and the albatross. Bad juju, that. I tried to console myself with thoughts of Darwinism, maybe. I kept thinking "please don't let there be half a bird on my roof, caught up in the ropes," as my brain played out possible gory bird dissections.

When I stopped for gas I reluctantly looked over the car and the Romany. The boat is ivory, and was splattered in, well, bird blood and feathers. Lots of splatter, lots of feathers. Now the scientist in me comes out and I stand there wondering how there is blood on both sides of the boat? All the way from the front to the back, in an interesting spray pattern. The physics of the whole thing surprised me.

Then I got home and lowered the boat down on the Hullavator. There is more splatter, all over the top deck. HOW THE F**K DID THAT HAPPEN? I imagine the bird somersaulting over the boat, or maybe spinning. The husband suggested that the front rope cut him in half? Ugh. Gory bird dissections, indeed.

I took pictures, evidence of my bird-murdering Romany. I had recently given the boat a name. I named it Fenriss, after the wolf. Now I am thinking I should have named the boat Daisy. Superstitious and silly, I know.

And now, the photos? Nope. You do not want to see them. Although they do detail the odd spray pattern. Nope. Here instead, is a picture of our cat, Hobbe-zilla. Why the cat? Why not? Indeed.

My week (or two) in photos

Once a year, depending on when the dogwood blooms, I photograph my pups in the backyard playing ball.
The above seven photos were shot May 4, 2014.

This is a long term project for me. I started it in 2012, the first spring Kona spent with us. My intention is to show them changing, all while the dogwood goes about its much longer life cycle. It is a bitter-sweet project. Even now I can detect the changing colors around Torvald's eyes and it is worrisome. Below are two photos, one from each year of the project.

Kona 4-1-2012 Only 8 months old and 36 pounds she has not yet suffered the injury to her right front leg that would plague her for the many months. Her face looks open and loving in this shot.

Kona and Indy 5-5-2013. Kona is fully grown at only 42 pounds. She is a petite girl, 2/3 the weight of the boys. She bullies her larger, stronger male house mates regularly. We speculate that her leg injury made her a bit meaner as she was (and still is) always concerned that some other person or dog might step on or bump her leg. Yet she is intent on catching the ball in my hand.

As this blog mainly talks about paddling I will return to that subject in just a moment but first I wanted to share some of the beings that fill my life with joy. Having dogs, large dogs, is not always easy or pleasant. And yet they bring so much to me in trade for the hassles they bring as well. They walk with me, which allows me to feel slightly safer walking forest trails without another human. They lay at my feet or next to me on the sofa sharing warmth and comfort. And they poke and prod me, encouraging me to get moving when I seem to have no other reason to arise from my lethargy.

I have been suffering from left shoulder pain now for the last 6 months or so. It became worse after I had a slip on the ice in March. Paddling is not actually hard on my shoulder. As long as I practice carefully and with good form I don't feel any shoulder pain at all. The pain gets me when I am moving around my desk, or moving in bed. Or dressing, dressing has become very hard indeed. Especially bras, they are hard to pull over my head or fasten. I hurt it really bad putting on my pjs last week. This is ridiculous.

Today the arm is tingling and numb on and off. From my shoulder down to my elbow and then my ring finger and pinkie there is a feeling of shooting nerve "pain" people often describe as "pins and needles." I've cut back on paddling but am going to yoga as the shoulder moves more easily after a yoga lesson. But even that is in jeopardy. I'll have an MRI Tuesday and then see what the orthopedic surgeon says. Snap. But I can walk, and walk with my dogs I will do.

I have paddled less but got out on the river last Wednesday. I billed the event as a full moon viewing but the misty rainy weather did not cooperate. It was okay though. We still paddled almost ten miles and enjoyed the misty view of the fancy real estate and National Harbor.

Andy

Lisa

Becky

The group crossing the Potomac to the Maryland side and then paddling up stream to the National harbor.

First break. Due to the river being so high we never were able to find a place to land.

 Well, that was a nice paddle. And I am still getting out. I will beat this shoulder thing back.

State Director Program - ACA

State Director Program - Overview - ACA | Canoe - Kayak - SUP - Raft - Rescue

I really considered this and am still thinking about it. I feel well qualified for this position. I would propose using meetup to inform people and boost participation. I believe this can be done by using meetup's enormous member base. I think it is especially useful when getting volunteers together for clean ups, etc.

The reasons I didn't apply mainly have to do with time and money. While I can afford the time for a position that pays me something I cannot afford the time for a position that does not. Sadly, my art has suffered neglect as I pursue my dream of learning to make my kayak dance. This level of learning has severley impacted the time I have to paint and make. If I cannot make time to paint then I must enforce the rule that I cannot make time to volunteer, either.

And then, I am only working part time and actually need to be working more but with business being slow at the clinic I cannot take any more hours. If and when there are more hours I will be taking them. This will reduce the number of hours I can spend in my kayak. But at this point in our evolving plan to leave the area making money is really very important. Very much so.

So I must sadly let this position pass. I think the application process closed around the 15th April. But I had a big dream for it. Time and money aside, I could have done so much for the ACA. Maybe next time. There may always be another chance.

Paddling clubs and their bear pits aka unanswerable questions

So, let's forget about the dead dogs and go back to the easier things in life, like say, getting crushed by a Romany during a botched beach landing. You know what? I'd do that every day for the rest of my life if it meant I'd never lose another furry friend unjustly.

But meantime "Everybody knows Deke!" sends me this off a CPA forum:

"Topic: Rock the Boat: Paddle Clubs that Don't Suck
Author: davekroeger
Message:
I joined the Washington Kayak Club a few weeks ago after they posted on the
CPA message board. I filled out the info and posed a photo of myself but
not my big, glaring mug. Today, I was kicked out of the group through a
boilerplate-written message because I hadn't posted a full-face photo. The
message mentioned "as I had agreed to" just to let me know that no curtesy
was necessary in dealing with me, and to point out a flaw in my character.
When I responded, a cyber-generated message told me that I could not even
do that.

The group is kind of odd anyway. The invitations that I received catered to
a beginner crowd, despite the bitter cold temperatures. They do mention the
need to wear a wetsuit or drysuit, but I don't think that a wetsuit would
be enough for this weather. The distances mentioned an presumably the speed
didn't appeal to me, but hopefully it did to enough experiences paddlers to
help those who weren't.

So I'm back to traditional clubs after my first step into the
software-heavy world of Meetup paddling. I've been a member of more than
half a dozen traditional paddling groups, and none have forced me to post
my face publicly. In this day of privacy intrusions, I have to say that I
don't want to. Facebook, for example, considers your photos as their
property and they metric your face so that you can be tracked by cameras.

If the controlling group owner wants me to give up my face for the honor of
joining his group, and then wants to hide behind cold electronic messages
when kicking me out, I guess he can. I'm out. I sure hope that the
traditional group holds out in these increasingly cold days of the
computer."

Well, ain't that special? Seems like everybody is taking pot shots at everybody else over there in CPA land. You know, I'd pass on that except, well, I can't. So this is what I sent back to Deke:

"hmmm...

Nope, not an Annapolis "ACK" owner. They have no problem putting their faces out there, different last names.

Please do mention that we get very very few beginners indeed this time of year. Actually, what is this guy "Super Dave?" Because many paddlers have accused our cold-water-crowd of paddling "too far, too long, too fast," as you well know.

Now, I can tear his response down point by point if you think it'd help you. He's made us sound like jerks and I'm not liking it. And I'm not even the owner anymore.

Lastly, I would consider myself a fairly skilled paddler but got my ass handed to me in class seventeen ways to Sunday this last weekend. Given the class, and instructors present, I am much humbled. We, NONE of US, are more than an L2 of 5 at best. (this of course excludes the Brians (S and B), and to a certain extent Gulfstream Dennis) so, in reconsidering what Super Dave said maybe WE ARE beginners but we are very well experienced and equipped beginners with good assisted rescue skills, detailed knowledge of our stomping ground, and confidence.

Over and Out"

(Edit, I am being unduly harsh on myself and paddlers such as Deke. Rereading the ACA's own guidelines some of our regulars really are  closer to L3s. Okay, I stand corrected. I have the flu and some things look worse than they are from the sick bed.)

There are some parts of Super Dave's complaint that are valid and some that just aren't, like complaining about parts of the program behind meetup. For example, he can't reply directly to an auto-remove but he can always go back to the website, click on the "contact us" icon and blast away. Andy is a lawyer, I am sure he'd be happy to send Super Dave a well thought out response.

The only part of Super Dave's complaint that I consider valid is his complaint about being ejected over the photo. Here's MY photo from meetup:

Look, Super Dave, if you actually believe that your mug is not already planted in the guts of the government's super computer multiple times then you can just go right on believing in fairies too, m'kay? 

Now to point out the flaws in my own photo: I am wearing a hat and sunglasses, the photo isn't all that close up and personal, and well, maybe it's not the most telling photo of me. Andy might kick me out of the group, right? No, wrong, because all Andy is looking for is a photo that will help the event organizers recognize the members when they assemble on the mat, and after the event while logging attendance. That's all, Super Dave. There really is no reason to go and get your panties all in a twist, eh?

All this fuss over a photo. Really? Really??

Sigh. Why do we do this to ourselves? 

Calusa Blueway Trip Report Part 2

This next day James and I really learned the truest usefulness of the Buff. We both burn like crazy and there really isn't enough sunscreen to stop this process. So the Buff became our secondary defense against our lovely star's visible radiation. There are already a handful of photos floating around social media of my husband channeling his inner bank robber, and so here are a couple more.

I haven't been so freckled since I was a child. It's a look I rather like. And my husband took on a mystery man air. One of my pals said "he looks like an adorable alien, with the blue lenses and tube face!"

We left Cayo Costa State Park and paddled south along its Gulf side. We had lunch. Yeah, they really know how to feed people, no doubts! We then made the crossing through a channel into Pine Island Sound and on to Captiva Island.

Along the way we picked up a begging double crested cormorant. He really was the cutest little guy, darting around and under James and my boats, giving us quizzical looks. He finally took off as we approached the entrance to the landing spot.

We stayed the night in at Captiva Island Inn , in a quiet, quaint, and upscale little village. Easily walk-able, and effortlessly cheerful, it had a Caribbean flair, with colorful houses and and a nautical theme every where one looked.

Our little one bedroom cabin, complete with a secret garden on the shady side and a hammock just calling James's name!

Oh, and it just happened to be Super Bowl night! I suspect, on no factual basis, that Bill was behind this fortuitous turn of lodging. So this night we enjoyed AC, ice cream, hot showers, and the Super Bowl half-time show complete with the RHCP & Bruno Mars to thrill our middle-aged lady hearts! <3 <3 <3

Super Bowl night group dinner, awesome!

Next morning we saddled up bright and early. In the list of items to bring was a couple of grocery-style cloth bags to move stuff when not in one's boat. I chose *very wisely* to bring two blue Ikea bags and another plastic-tarp style bag that had a top with a zipper. They didn't absorb any water and served us very well. Added to my list of essential items for kayak camping. These bags meant that we didn't have to make more than one trip from our lodging to our cleverly secured and hidden boats.

James, cheerful in the morning

Grouped waiting for take off

Pretty boat, looked like a deck ornament rather than an actual seaworthy vessel

Look at that water!

Mary and Bill

We lunched near a bird preserve, getting quite a show from the residents. Then we paddle on to "Picnic Island" which is apparently nameless but as it is in Picnic Flats the Burnhams use this apparently sensible name.

Unfortunately for me, my arrival on Picnic Island coincided with an exhausted feeling, a cough, and fever. I did not get out of my tent to listen to the "mandatory" camp bathroom lesson. I didn't come out to eat either. I *never* let a little illness stop me from eating. But I was really sick and didn't even get up to search out this "camp can" until the next morning. I had caught the flu James had battled for a week before our trip. I couldn't breathe and coughed horribly through the night.

Some how, not entirely clear, I managed to make it through the next two days of paddling. However, I noticed when editing my photos just how few I took the last two days. Too sick to do more than paddle and pull my share of the load, apparently.

We settled in for our last night of the trip at an RV park. Although the "camp ground" isn't quite set up for tents they had a large flushie bathroom, a water hose to wash at and an outdoor bar and fire pit which we happily used. The owners had us set up in the common area next to their own RV and it worked out great. Grateful to be bedding down I went to bed much earlier than everyone else. In the morning I had lost my voice, and was gently teased for being so quiet.

The last morning dawned cool and cloudy, much like our first day. We made the boat ramp at Bokeelia at about noon, just as the clouds started to burn off.

White Pelican roost, apparently a rare sight

Follow the black dots to follow our tracks. I am sure James will come up with a high-tech version of this but for now this simple laminated chart and dots added by Bill will be perfectly adequate. I think Lisa took this photo and I cropped it to remove the ads along the sides.

Total distance was either 73.5 or maybe 75 total if you like to round up, and most of us do. We averaged 12- 15 miles each day. I have a callus on my right thumb where my paddle rests, like never before. Yes, I would do that again, minus the flu next time, please!