Hawaii,
week two.
2/8/07
Nothing incredible, exciting, or magical happened today.
We sewed the skin on our kayaks and started carving paddles. It
rained. I went to the grocery store in search of graduated
measuring containers but didn't find any, so we won't be coating the
kayaks until that happens. Day to day here is a bit of a shock,
socially Hawaii is far from paradise. Hawaii is blessed with the
highest incarceration rates and the worst schools in the country, and
there is alot of racial tension. The supermarket here is the same
as the supermarket anywhere but it seems so much more tragic to me
because unlike, say, Minnesota, where one might find any number of
perfectly valid reasons to squander ones health on liquor and miniature
donuts; Hawaii is lush and warm with any number of things to do
other than die the Slow American Death. It's not fair that I
should hold this place to such a high standard, but there a few
bicyclists and virtually no kayakers in a place that is paradise for
both. I just goes to show that Wall Mart can suck the beauty out
of any place.
Rich and I downspiraled into a long speculative discussion about the
dangers of Tiger sharks. So far my thoughts on sharks have
been 'They're big, they're down there, and theres not a whole lot I can
do about it.' Of course it wouldn't hurt to dye zebra
stripes on the bottoms, just in case; we will after all be paddling
hundreds of miles of habitat during prime feeding times. Then
we'd look at our beautiful clean kayaks and imagine massacreing the
aesthetic with a bad paint job that we can't even practice. But
then again, it might look OK and would make us feel safer and who
knows? Around and around the argument went until after a few
disturbing internet searches we decided to go for it, only to discover
that TSA had replaced my black acid dye with a freindly note saying
they'd confiscated it as hazardous materials. Thanks for keeping
us safe TSA.
A genuine photo from shark researchers in South Africa, they wanted to
study the sharks more intimately, so they used kayaks. Here
is the the link to the Africa Geographic article this photo is sourced
from http://www.whitesharktrust.org/pages/mediaarticle/media25.html
The Wailuku river might be rising with the weekends' rains and I'm
contemplating telling Chris and Rich not to let me run it no matter
what I say at the time. It's a gorgeous river. The Wailuku,
literally translated 'river of death', is tropical chasm that runs
right through the center of downtown Hilo with absolutely the most
beautiful world class whitewater I've ever seen. It's also a
class 5 river, 40 ft drops, big pools, submerged lava tubes, big
holes. I'll definately risk a single run if the opportunity
presents itself after the trip, but I can't risk jarring my back or
tearing out my shoulder three days before a 270 mile paddle trip.
Still, if I see it, I'm gonna want to run it, I'll have to give my
helmet to Bailey and tell her not to give it back, I can't trust
the guys.
2/9/07
I feel like a traitor, like scum. This morning for the
first time in my life I shopped at Wall Mart, it was the ONLY place in
Hilo where I could get graduated mixing containers for the goop.
At least they had them, otherwise it would've taken some seriously
creative measuring to get the ratios and the quantities right, and this
stuff is finicky! So we coated the kayaks, thank goodness.
...and then as it always happens when you do this outside, the bugs
started to land and stick, and it started to rain. We quickly
moved the sticky kayaks into the shed. Rich says he spent the
better part of the day doing research for his real estate appraisal job
(geez, some people), but considering the quanity of evidence he
found to support us painting stripes on the bottom of the kayaks I
suspect he was actually researching tiger sharks more than land
values. Thanks Rich, I never used to worry about sharks.
Bailey drove me to the fish market where the service pace was measured
in geological time. I eyed the Ahi in the case like a slavering
wolf for ten minutes before reurning to the car with the soft red slice
of tuna. Bailey looked on sqeamishly as I unwrapped and ate the entire
raw fillet right there. Mmmmmm.
Driving to the beach I saw war resisters waving signs and was
dissapointed that Rich's car refused to honk for peace. When I
arrived at the parking lot the trunk also refused to close so I tied it
shut with a cam strap and carried Baileys Ginnyak down the steep trail
to the beach. I
went solo for a grey and rainy evening paddle outside Honolii, and
pressed the shoulder a bit hard coming in on a wave, ouch.
At the health food store I met a fellow Oregonian and our discussion of
photography sparked the interest of a tall man who asked if I was a
photographer; I should have said no and informed him that in fact I was
actually blind. For the next fifteen minutes he imposed an
endless photo array of sunsets and clouds, complete with
narrative. He was a perfectly nice man but I still nearly ran
shreiking from the store. Unless there is something truly
remarkable in the foreground I will never take a photo of a Hawaiian
sunset. That's what professional photographers and postcard
companies are for.
2/10/07
Shopping for the trip today, a bit different from the
norm. Food shopping for instance, Rich and I each pick up a
shopping basket, which is about the amount of space we have for food,
and just sort of wander around and buy stuff until the baskets are
full. A similar scene ensues at the drug store and army surplus
store. Back at the house the gear and food are assembled into a
big pile, ready for sorting. At 11am we paint the shark
repellant stripes on the kayaks. Chris, personal friend and head
ocean safety officer
for the Big Island, stops by to check our progress. He knows
Tiger sharks and thinks the stripes are a very good idea, and thats
good enough for me. Chris can ride or pilot anything that
floats, including commercial fishing boats, paddle boards, surfboards,
kayaks, rafts, scuba gear; he knows the Hawaiian ocean.
Rich and I listen intently to everything he says.
Rich says "I feel like I'm in an art museum with a sharpie pen, it's
awful!"
We both feel better with the stripes and head upstairs to do the real
work of plotting our days along the island. The choices have been
made for us, there simply isn't a lot of places to land. On
average there is fifteen miles between possible landing spots, some
days push twenty five miles with only a few of the landings safe in a
large swell. Ground swell is a primary consideration, especially
with the reef landings, more dangerous is the superimposed trade wind
swell. Just planning the next four days is difficult,
drawing on a mutitude of swell and wind forecasts, Rich's knowledge of
the island, and our combined experience of exposed coastal
touring. The game we're playing here has so less to do with
paddling skill and everything to do with making the appropriate
predictions and choices. Almost every stretch is full
commitment.
An improvised scale taken directly from the latitude on the map.
When we finish the course we add all the distances up to within 10
miles of the known distance around the island, an error of less than
.04 percent, which makes me feel really good about my map skills.
For the rest of the day we work on kitting out the kayaks, deck lines,
thigh hooks, backbands, rub strips, paddles. We're
both starting to 'feel it' and the 'stoke' is palpable. Tomorrow
we load the kayaks and drive them to exposed reef surf where we'll get
a solid idea of how they'll
perform on the more dangerous landings of the trip. Rescue
practice, load balancing, and dropping down steep Hawaiian faces for
the first time. That's the scary part, doing the research to find
out which waves will eat us and which will spit us out. I have a
good sense of the surf balance of the SC-1 already, but unlike Oregon,
the bottom here is close and jagged so making the wave is more
critical. I'm confident in my skill level and confident in the
kayaks. Wipe-outs are going to happen but hopefully we can keep
them within manageable parameters. It's a bit comical because the
thresholds for sea kayakers are pathetic compared to those of surfers
who aren't risking 100 lbs of loaded boats dragging them across the
reef. So when we say the surf was 'epic' we're talking like
8 ft, 12 ft faces.
2/11/07
Our shakedown cruise was a disaster. We started off the day
arguing about packing strategies and safety gear. Five miles down
from Hilo Rich confessed to me that he had a terrible feeling of dread
about the trip and that he couldn't go. I know this paddle has
been Rich's dream for the last six years so for him to say something
like this I took it seriously, I think whatever is speaking to him is
real and I respect his choice. The decision not to go is always
the hardest, and the most important decision one makes in a sea kayak.
I decided to try some self
rescue practice and dove over the side of the kayak. Even with
giant float bags the kayak was too swamped and the only rescue I could
do was to reenter and roll and then pump out a giant amount of
water. It wasn't practical and leads me to believe that a solid
roll is the only safe rough water self rescue is a rock solid
roll. Luckily I have that. Not so luckily my
waterproof camera case leaked killing my $1000 DLSR. Hopefully if
I dry it out it will work again.
The kayaks performed beautifully, stable, manuverable, and virtually
impervious to wind and chop. But paddling back through the heavy
swell and confused water Rich and I
both became sea sick, me for the first time in my life. It was
awful but by keeping myself fed and hydrated I was able to get through
it.
That eveng I strongly contemplate cancelling the trip, because of the
possible death of my camera and Rich's ominous feeling. I really
have to reach deep inside and try to think clearly, I don't wan't to do
anything stupid or dangerous. Going solo would definately
increase the risk of the trip, but I've done alot of solo big water
trips and the fact is, I just don't have a 'bad feeling' about
it. I decide to go for it. I've trained for this, I live
for
this. The reefs are scary, but for sheer power the thick cold
waves of the Oregon Coast are way heavier. I'll be okay.
Trying to plan a solo paddle for the next week is tricky. I can't
chance paddling the Kau Coast (where the lava flows into the sea)
because on thursday two swells are predicted to collide where two
powerful currents and winds also collide; too much risk. Tommorow
I may start at South Point and head north along the Kona
coastline. This may be the last entry in this blog, I'm not
sure what progress I can make or what route I'll choose. The
Island will choose for me.
Kayaking the
Kona Coast