White Water Run on the Po

Frank and Kathy Collins invited the husband and I on a little easy white water run a couple of  Sundays ago. I don't own a ww boat so I brought my Wilderness Tsunami 120. James brought his old Dagger.

At the launch off the C & O Canal. Frank on the water and my husband on the bank.  We paddled upstream and took to the Potomac right above the "Breaks."

Kathy with James in the background.

James

We ran into an older couple as we entered  the side channel that took us around the Breaks on the Potomac. They seemed like lovely people and after they paddled ahead of us Kathy told me the couple is in their 70s. I want to be still paddling in my 70s, I do.

It was right about here in the trip that Frank said "Randi, I saw you do an eddy turn!" and I thought, aha, Dale Williams and the scary Elliot Cut taught me something I retained and used. Woohoo! It's a good day!

I was not as grim as this selfie makes me appear.

Frank and Kathy

James' boat emptying after he flipped while fooling around. I got to swoop in and tow him to the side when he lost grip on his boat as Frank towed it out.

Although it's hard to see the Virginia bluebells were all blooming on the banks and the trees just beginning to green.

Bluebells to the left on the bank

You can just make those Bluebells out

This is actually how I felt. It was a happy happy day. And then we had dinner at a little pizza place in Potomac with Frank and Kathy. A great way to start the week.

Mother's Day Paddle

Sometimes I let the herd mentality take control of my better sense. At least I lived to tell the tale.

No s**t, there I was: I don't like the section of the Potomac they planned to paddle and they were taking two ladies out whom I hadn't paddled with; the river was just under flood stage; the wind was a good 15-22 mph; and I've never practiced rescues with any of the paddlers going. Last minute, I got an email from the club leader telling me he'd love to see the husband and I on the river for this event. Uh no, the hubby won't be budged. He doesn't like to be hurried and doesn't like to paddle with people he doesn't know and trust. Me, I'm not that smart.

I pull up in the parking lot and the water is up on to the retaining wall maybe a foot or 18 inches off the parking deck. But it's high tide's peak and the tide is starting to ease out. The wind is a bit stiff. I get my equipment on, I chose my CD Solstice for speed and the fact that it doesn't weather cock.

It doesn't look so bad, still in the protected marina area

Here's where I don't have the technical jargon to describe what a mess I bit off: We had one or two foot swells that were more like messy chop. "Following seas" I believe it's called but coming first from the right and then the left rear with no real rhyme or reason. And gusts of wind, stiff. The Solstice doesn't swing in the wind nor really let the swells push it around from the front. But it also doesn't catch waves like my Elias. It wants to go straight and the faster the better. Its stern will rise up on waves coming from behind, pushing the bow down in to the trough between each wave, somewhat pearling. It was a game of risk; brace and stroke.

Just after leaving the marina and entering the river full I was keenly aware that I felt I had no business being out there. My boat is not stable at low speeds in all that wash, and I was horrified by the noticeable pearling, which was becoming more and more obvious as the swells, well, swelled. I said I was going back. That I was uncomfortable. The club leader said "What's the problem? You have your big girl boat and your big girl hat on, what's the matter?"

Well, snap, I was worried, and definitely uncomfortable. But in the time it would have taken to explain this fact I could have been hanging from the cockpit downside up in chocolate colored water that was sure to be full of city runoff. So I did the only thing I could think of that wasn't returning to the launch: I took off. The boat, when driven at speed becomes a missile. It cuts through the waves and just tracks like an arrow. So I covered a half mile in a harrowing few moments. Upon rounding the point and entering milder water I began to breathe again.

I was far ahead of my companions, I could barely hear them behind me. So I eased up and snapped a couple of shots of them over my shoulder as they gained on me. Celeste, on the paddle board, had stayed on her knees through the worst of it. She is surely one heck of a paddler.

Celeste to the far right

The water looks ok, huh? Yeah, because I couldn't snap a shot in the thick of it. In the end I didn't take a dunking. But I am mad at myself. I let myself get talked into paddling in conditions I normally never would. I failed at risk management in that I took unacceptable risk when there was no need. 

One of the two ladies I didn't know was more shaken than I and hugged the shore as we made our way south. She insisted on leaving the river when we got to our half-way point, meaning we had to take a long break while her vehicle was recovered. Our boats sat on newly deposited flotsam.

That's my boat, red and white, nose in the bushes

I know better. This won't happen again. And I am also thinking hard about the boat that would have been the "right boat" to have been paddling. Obviously in the company of 17 and 18 foot boats my stable 12 foot Tsunami would have been too slow. Perhaps my Elias would have been a better choice. But it is hard on long paddles, being more suitable to playing in surf than travelling long miles with big glass boats all around.

I am just not sure where to go from here. Just not sure at all.

Bluebells on the C & O Canal Towpath

Virginia Bluebells

I had scheduled a much anticipated (by me) bike ride on the C&O Canal Towpath to view the Virginia Bluebell blooms. They only bloom for about two weeks a year and are a lovely sight to behold. So we headed up north last Sunday for the ride and a picnic. I had 5 cyclists on the rsvp list but only Ken showed up. I was not shocked when Ken arrived by bike but I was a tad dismayed that 4 people had blown the event off. First time I have had such a dismal turnout.

The ride started out cold and blustery. Ken, being a bike patrol, had been up and down the towpath very recently and he recommended we start out going north, as we had planned to do. We only considered going the other direction as I was worried the bluebells hadn't popped yet.

Ken pointed out the wild blue phlox as being quite numerous on the trail

There was only a spattering of flowers as we started out. This photo is of the trail behind us going out. The Potomac was on our left for the trip north.

There were a great many of these flowers, name unknown to me

And these! Wow! So pretty and again I don't know their name

Ken and the Lorax preparing our picnic at a "private table" overlooking the Potomac River

Ken, the intrepid bike patroller and picnicker

Dipping my paddle for "exercise."

I need to add some form of exercise to my daily routine, every day now, if I am going to shake off the unwanted pudge that accumulated while I was laid up with various injuries. As I have nearly ruined my desire to bike by making it into exercise, I don't want to mess up paddling as well.

When you look over the first set of photos and then the second notice the amazing green that has crept into every living plant.

Once again we found crew teams on the reservoir but this time we were turning around right as we came upon them. April 12, 2013

Red eared sliders aren't native this far north but they've adjusted very well to our Mid-Atlantic ecosystem. This fellow was about a foot across.

Great Blue Heron, looking a bit hungry and cold.

Kat as we floated back at the boat ramp.

Canadian Geese at the boat ramp, which can be bossy, probably looking for a handout.

Our second excursion in the same locale, only a week later but much earlier in the day, was run under the threat of thunderstorms.  While it did spritz on us a couple of times it didn't hold us back. Instead we just paddled all the quicker. We managed to cover 8.5 miles in just two hours. Not a bad speed.

The greening of northern Virginia as demonstrated in the contrast between the above set of photos and these. Shot April 19, 2013.

Ominous skies held off storming until we were on our way home.

Three double crested cormorants right before take off.

Spring forward, and I will!

I have climbed the last surgical hump. I put my great fears aside and went for the pelvic organ surgery to deal with the bit of mesh, or suture, that had been causing me such pain and misery for the last year. Today. And now, a week of bed rest more or less, and I will finish PT for my hips and I'm free.

Release me into the world! I'm ready for the spring's muddy trails. (note to self-get new rims on the Tri-Cross) And the rivers all around the DC area are calling me on to the water.

This year I start the year with a full quiver of boats well matched to my needs and abilities: A Wilderness Tsunami 120 for those playful days in the shallow rivers with rocks, and branches; my beloved Current Designs Solstice GTS for those long days on the bigger waters, rivers, bays, sounds, and long point-to-point paddles; and my new Necky Elias, perfect for playing in surf, moving between rocks, and navigating some of the closer waterways in the area.

Each boat has its pros and cons. I have considered selling the Tsunami. I am interested in taking some white water classes this year and could be talked into getting a more appropriate river boat. There's only room for three so the Tsunami would be the logical boat to sell. I am supremely confident in the boat. Its primary stability, large cockpit, and thick poly layup make it practical and practically indestructible. It makes a great loaner for visiting friends and family. It's also the heaviest boat I own pretty much guaranteeing that I can't get it out of the garage by myself. And being a shorter wider boat means I pay a hefty price when out with the big boats.

The Solstice, well, I could sing its praises all day. Its beauty, incredibly fine finish, and very comfy fit make it ideal for me. It's light enough for me to move in and out of the garage by myself and with the help of the Thule Hullivator it's no struggle to load it on the Subie and take off. Its composite glass/kevlar layup has held up very well to 6 months of non-stop paddling. I'm in boat-love. It's also, true to Greenland style, tricky in choppy water with swirling currents. I busted plenty of sweat in Cobscook Bay in Maine last June. I wasn't yet fully familiar with the boat, mostly my own fault. By the end of the paddling season, when the doctor kicked me out of my boats and off my bike, I had come to a sure place with it. My comfort zone had expanded. But much like with my female Aussie pup, I can never fully let my guard down. Or I will find out why "they" say : a sea kayak is a long, thin, elegant paddle-driven boat with a cockpit on the underside.

My Necky Elias, well, just one paddle old is a charming poly boat with a ton of rocker. It will turn with just the paddler's turn of the hips. Its plastic layup is thinner than the Tsunami, but this means it's lighter. Again a boat that I can get to the water without help. There's a lot to like about it. Its down side is simply that on a long paddle, point to point, the rudder is a necessity to reduce fatigue piled on by the need to correct its course. I'm good with that. Not a big issue. I was already used to the Eliza having the exact same characteristics and I got an entire year of paddling, a whole twelve months, before I sold it.

I am not a prayer, I don't have any belief that the universe operates that way. But I am thankful to whatever mechanisms operate this complex bio-physical machine we inhabit. I've been handed some very tough lessons and had my down-and-outs. But I am also lucky, very very lucky. For my lessons, my growth, and my happiness and joy, for this I am grateful. Good night mates, see you on the water soon!

Our club getting ready to clean up a little local lake called Lake Accotink in April 2012. Catching the trash here means less trash flowing into the Potomac. That's me on the far right in the white hat.

A Full Moon paddle on the Potomac near Old Town Alexandria. What a gorgeous night!

Holiday weekend paddles

My paddling life might be killing my hip but that won't keep me off the water!

8/31/12 Did a full moon paddle from Bull Run Marina. The Marina is a park service site but one has to buy a key to it every year. Luckily for us our friend Scott has one so a group of us dropped in about an hour before moonrise and paddle down river on the Occoquan Reservoir. The moon came up, stunning. Then we paddled back in the pitch darkness, an adventure all on its own. No photo I took did it justice:

Our little group

Kat with the glow lights

Scott in the dark

Saturday took a day off paddling, my flipping hip and lower back are killing me! Ack! Better not keep me out of my boat.

Sunday 9-2-12, put in at Fountainhead Regional on the Occoquan again with the woman buying my Eliza. Took her out for three hours to make sure the boat would fit her needs. Money traded hands and I, somewhat sadly, watched my boat drive away on her truck after the paddle.

The boat is a good fit for her

By design we ran into one of the clubs we paddle with:

My three favorite paddlers from the left Scott, Kat, and the Lorax

We first went down river and then up, passing Fountainhead. Then we ran into a sight we don't often see amongst kayakers:

The dog's person says the dog loves riding on her boat. :-)

For whatever reason our paddle was turned around here as we wasted a bit of time chatting with the two ladies with the dog. We were in a hurry to catch the rest of the club over at Ledo's Pizza so we beat paddles back to Fountainhead.

Lunch was great and I got to see paddlers off the the water I had never gotten the chance to really talk to. What a great day!

Labor Day found me laid up with a bag of ice. I told my husband "I think my paddling season is over until the docs do something about this hip." But I don't think that has stuck, after a weekend off paddling I am now planning a trip this weekend after all. Wish me luck!

Evolving thoughts on my biking life

I, ok, I am a cyclist. Not a "real cyclist." Just a cyclist. I own more than one bike and I love to ride, just love the heck out of it. The wind and speed, scenery from the ride whizzing by, the ability to ride where I can't drive. And the speed, did I mention the speed? It feels so much faster than a ride in the car. Cars insulate me from the environment. Riding a bike puts me IN the environment. O yay!

So a few years ago I bought my first real road bike. I bought into the hype and purchased a carbon framed Specialized Ruby, a bike marketed not for racers but for the rest of us. The bike is fast and amazingly light, maybe too light. It feels like it could blow away in a 15 mile an hour breeze. Maybe it could. It certainly feels like it is going to fly out from underneath me when I catch a cross wind. And it is not a comfortable ride. It soaks up vibrations well but puts a lot of pressure on my hands and neck. I really hurt after riding it but kept at it thinking I would just get used to it.

The other "thing" about it is how careful I feel like I have to be with it. Once, when I crashed slow-mo in a cross walk I was so worried about the bike that as I fell I rolled on to my back and held the bike off the ground. I crashed because my new clip-less pedals were too tight and I couldn't get my foot out. I held the bike off the pavement by the same too-tight pedals. Not the bike's fault, of course. Here it is all shiny and new; note the handle bars are lower than the seat:

I can take my other bike, my main ride, off road with no fear. It's also a Specialized, Tri-Cross Sport, an aluminum-framed carbon-forked mile eating tough muddy machine. I have liked/loved this bike since my bottom first landed in the seat. I remember showing up for a trail ride with my buddy for the first time and him saying "you can't ride that skinny tire bike here." And a different time my bike was leaning against a tree while I practiced some yoga poses far enough away to maybe not seem associated with the bike. A couple of older fellows on "mountain bikes" rode up, dismounted and they both stared at my muddy machine. The one says to the other "I'd never ride those skinny tires here." The other fellow agreed.

And yet I could, and did, and have put at least 10,000 miles on it. Many, most, of those miles were on rutted dirt trails. Deep mud is not my friend, nor baby head sized rocks, but mostly this bike works great for what I do. Here it is, relatively clean before a 40 miles C & O Canal Tow Path ride:

It's not really pretty, and certainly not fancy, but every scratch and scuff shows how much I've ridden it. So here are the two ends of my bike spectrum. Carbon/light/have a care and Metal/tough/devil may care!

I broke my neck last year. Crushed the 6th vertebrae into a pyramid and ruptured the disc above and below it. No great story to go with it, just moderate embarrassment involving a light, a cat, and my bed. I have predictably had some health set backs since. Especially in the biking department. I took my Tri-Cross in early this year for a professional fitting to try and make it more comfortable. Between a stem change and some tweeks it is a bit more comfy now. But the Ruby, I don't think I want to go changing enough of the bike to make it comfortable. It is a pure machine, why adulterate it?

Recently I picked up "Just Ride" by Grant Petersen. I am struggling to get in just a few rides a week, the health thing and pain make it hard. So I constantly consider how I can get back to my biking life. So I get the guy's book, read it, and just feel dumb. Dumb, like, why didn't I understand that carbon was so fragile? (lack of research, listening to bike salesman, and did I mention Bicycling Magazine?) Why didn't I realize that my race-inspired Ruby was uncomfortable before I broke my neck? Why aren't reliable steel bikes available in my LBS (local bike store)? And should I change my carbon fork out for a steel fork on my Tri-Cross?

There is no bike guru sitting around taking bike questions from dummies such as myself. Any time I walk into my old LBS and ask probing questions I am met with a sneer. I moved and have a new LBS. They mostly don't sneer at me. But I still have the lingering embarrassment of being a grom or whatever they call the uninitiated. And they sell carbon bikes, so they won't diss carbon. I don't even know who would give me a straight answer. Do I order a steel fork, and from which manufacturer? Will my carbon bike sit on my trainer forever because that's the only place it's comfortable to ride? I know only I can answer these questions. And that I am whining. I know, get over it.