Sea Kayaking
I've asked some of the world's best paddlers and adventurers about their experiences of sea kayaking. From reading their accounts we get a sense of what makes paddling the allure that it definitely is. You won't find a lot about kayak specifications and forward paddling techniques here, there are much better sources for that type of detail. This is about paddling from the eyes, ears, fingertips and heart.
It would be sensational to have your experiences here too. Please send me a few hundred words of what, from your hours in the cockpit, you have loved/feared/known/embraced/rejected/endured as a sea kayaker.
Jon Turk
In 1999 and 2000, Jon Turk and his partners sailed and paddled across the Pacific, from Japan to Alaska. Paddler magazine rated it in the top ten sea kayak journeys of all-time. The adventure is chronicled in his book, In the Wake of the Jomon: Stone Age Mariners and a Voyage Across the Pacific, published by International Marine/McGraw Hill. Jon has generously allowed us to reproduce the preface to his book here. See also www.jonturk.net. You can contact Jon at jon@jonturk.net.
'My kayak slid gently off a wave and settled into an eerie calm, sheltered by mesmerizing gray-green walls of water. A part of me relaxed, even though I knew that this moment of peace was ephemeral. To windward, the next wave reared higher and steeper than its neighbors. The wave loomed, then overreached itself and hung above my head. An instant later, cascading droplets leaped over the precipice and exploded into a growing line of white.
A kayak is so long and skinny that it should roll down the face of a breaking wave, like a window shade gone amok. But just before the wave crashed onto my deck, I grasped the turbulent water with my paddle and cocked my hips to set the edge of my kayak. The motion was automatic and relaxed by now, like resting on the shoulder of a friend rather than combating an enemy. The wave broke against my left cheek, washing away the encrusted salt from the previous wave and leaving a new coating to crystallize in my beard, eyelashes, and even the small hairs inside my ear.
I had launched this journey from Japan fifteen months previously to follow a small group of Stone Age mariners who-all evidence suggests-migrated to North America between 18,000 and 9,500 years ago. Most likely these long-forgotten sailors made their journey in open log canoes, paddling these same waters and marveling at the same menacing waves and the same magic that bears a small, frail boat over their crests. I had come here to share the thoughts, dreams, fears, and exaltations of these ancient seafarers-and in some indefinable way to understand why they had set out across this roiling and tempestuous sea.'
Jason Lewis
In a momentous achievement, Jason Lewis completed a human powered (no motor or sails) circumnavigation of the globe. From 1994 to 2007 Jason bicycled, skated, kayaked, swam, rowed, walked and pedal boated over 45,000 miles across five continents, two oceans and one sea. His full story can be found here, and he has kindly allowed us to reproduce a blog entry from June 25th 2005. Incredible!
June 25th 2005
LOCATION: Kalabahi - Alor, Indonesia
Tonight we find ourselves in the relative luxury of Chez Kalabahi - the main hub for the surrounding islands of Alor and Pantar. We've just returned from a meal dropped from heaven - eight dishes of absolutely yummy skran between the four of us for just 147,000 rupiah ($15). We'll sleep the sleep of the dead tonight after paddling the hardest day yet.
It was only 20 nautical miles but for periods we found ourselves paddling north against counter-currents and quite confused seas in Selat Pantar. Our route depended upon getting the tide just right. We're in spring tides at the moment - having just had a full moon - so the water can run at 3 knots running north and 9 knots south. There's a complicated calculation to determine what direction one can expect the water to be flowing at what time of the day, but this depends upon knowing the moon rise and set (which we know) and a Nautical Almanac (which we don't have). So I made a rough calculation based on the moon's behaviour and the information available in the cruising guide for this area. Having spoken to some local fishermen at camp yesterday evening I concluded the calculations were about right - to start our northward track up through the selat around 7am - a little after low tide. But rounding a headland just 2 miles into the passage it was clear that all was not quite right - a strong southbound current was colliding with a northbound inshore tide creating a nasty looking whirlpool directly in our path. We beached the boats to scope out the selat from the high ground. Such confluences of water can be quite disastrous for small boats like our kayaks - spinning them around, dislodging the occupant/s and dragging both under. So for the price of a short wait, or longer if necessary, we decided to play it safe.
An hour later the tide did indeed seem to slacken, or whatever collision of events that was creating the whirlpool effect. So we continued our track northwards, getting into Kalabahi without further incident at around 4pm.
Kayaks are an amazing piece of equipment that can yield enormous freedom of travel. They can also be a millstone around one's neck when trying to book into a hotel for the night. The two main hotels here in town couldn't provide security for the boats so we decided to paddle past the town and see if we could hunt down the folks from Medicine Sans Frontier (MSF) that we met a few days ago on the south side of the island and who offered for us to drop by on arrival here.
Justine Curgenven
In 2004 Justine and two companions became the first all female team to circumnavigate Tasmania by sea kayak. As a self declared expert on all things Tasmanian, I can confirm that this would frighten the pants off most people, including me! Justine operates Cackle TV Productions to record her adventures. The following blog entry joins the journey as it moves down the wild west coast of Tasmania.
Tuesday, November 30, 2004. Day 23&24,
Yesterday we paddled 50km to Strahan, making it our 8th day of paddling over 50km out of the last 9 days. We are back on schedule and are all very tired. We've been on the water for between 9 and 12 hours each of those days. We've stopped getting up so early because we need our sleep but were still on the water by 8am most days. Today it's a bit windy but not too bad, we could have paddled onwards but we've chosen to have a rest day because we want to be fresh and focused for the rest of the south coast.
We've been incredibly lucky with the weather on the West coast so far. One day was mirror calm and a fisherman that we met said "The West coast is NEVER like this. This is the best day EVER". But yesterday we encoutered the swell that the South and West coasts of Tasmania are famous for. Overnight it increased from about 2 metres to 4-6 metres - all from the South West. It was quite exciting launching from Granville Harbour as we could see the odd big set arrive and close out in a line of powerful whitewater across the bay. We put our helmets on and hoped for good timing or good luck. We got it right and managed to get out without getting wet, although our kayaks crested up over some very tall waves before crashing back down again on the other side.
For the first few hours we were quite close to cliffs and the clappotis went on for ever. Even 400-500metres out to sea, the sea was a constant jaggling bouncing, confused mess. I normally enjoy clappotis but this was more like a rollercoaster ride that went on a bit too long. Trys and I even felt a bit sea sick (the first time for either of us in a sea kayak).
Later on the wind picked up from the North West and it was really interesting paddling with a big rolling swell from the SW and wind from a different direction. The odd wave from the South West would rise really tall and powerful and look like the whole face was going to crash down on top of us but it never did. The top would sometimes break with a brief crack of the whip and we all got the odd wave down our necks every now and again. We could still surf the odd wind wave from the NW and made quite good progress. We finally arrived in the harbour entrance by Strahan about 6pm and were met by Matt who kindly drove us 12km into town for a good meal. We knew we were having a day off the next day so it was party time. Well, it should have been, but we were all a bit too tired to dance on the tables. We had a bit of wine and beer with local fish for dinner, but were in bed by 10.30pm! Today, we're enjoying the first day where we are definately NOT getting in a kayak for over 2 weeks.
Laurie Ford
Laurie is a veteran Tasmanian paddler with nearly 25 years of active involvement. He was a founding member of the Tasmanian Sea Canoeist Club and the Maatsuyker Canoe Club. From the practicalities of pioneering the installation of sails and electic bilge pumps, to the adventure of crossing Bass Strait solo, Laurie is a certified sea kayaking legend. He has been generous enough to share a few thoughts with us here. You can find more at Laurie's website.
I actually took up sea kayaking because of the thrill of paddling in big ocean swells, and riding out seas whipped up by strong winds. Tasmania is in the path of the "Roaring Forties" and so regularly has windy conditions - 20 to 30 knots is not unusual.
But one of the other joys of sea kayaking is seeing the beautiful creatures in, and close by, the sea.
The clean white and yellow Gannets are unbelievable as they fold their wings and plummet like an arrow into the sea from a great height. They can be seen all around Tasmania.
Terns act in a similar manner, although tend to flutter more as they dive. We watched a huge flock up the Kennebec River in the USA.
"Just past the mouth of Back River we were paddling alongside a very shallow area which must have had a big school of very small fish, because there was a big flock of terns just continually falling out of the sky into the water - making a feast of the fish that could not escape into deep water."