A whole bunch of Ing's.

SOF Build: Coaming along nice!

2012-01-31T00:28:00.004-05:00

See what I did there?...sorry... couldn't not write it. =0)

My hands are a series of healing cuts,bleeding slices and scars. Blood sweat and tears has been poured into this project; I found it only fitting to sign my art with "gusher" of my own soul. (Authors note: A "gusher"is a form of bleeding I have classified into stages during this build. A "weeper" is a slow one, a "pourer" slightly more; a "gusher" is just below "squirter"..which lucky hasn't transpired....yet!

12 days of stormy weather had given me time to pick away at the kayak. Ending a career, downsizing my life, has really taken over my thoughts this past month. Worrying about some distant future where things are not working out in life; seems to be a unintentional favorite pass time of the right side of my brain. Firing up the kayaking part of my brain seems to dull the roar of horriable things that hasn't ( and most likely never will) even happened.

As I finished carving up one piece of the front stem of the kayak; I bumped into the woodhorse.....and down she came. A cracked aft stem piece. I uttered "fudge" (I dunno why I didn't use my preferred Fuck or other colourful profanity.) I guess it's the fact of knowing that anything that breaks on this is fixable. It isn't like a vehicle that will cost me hundreds of dollars out of the blue; or paying a qualified person to fix it for me. I am that qualified guy! I hauled out some clamps and some waterproof wood glue and patched her up. I was about to peg in the rear stem anyway. .....Fudge.

Having to wait for some glue to dry I texted Rob and luckly he was home and waiting for me to pop over to use his table saw. We cut some 1/8ths of maple I had to begin work on the coaming. While late at night I figured I would get them cut and start in the morning.

Upon getting home I quickly set up a temporary jig to see if I could get away with not making one out of wood. I steamed each piece of maple and bent it into the jig. Worked like a charm! I had decided that I was going to go with a D shaped cockpit as seen on various Hudson strait and Labrador kayaks.

After the strips cooled into a state where they more or less remained in the bent shape; I applied glue to one side and clamped it tightly every inch or so. Tomorrow I will glue the other side, join it to the strait rear peice, and put some smaller strips around the top of the coaming to secure a skirt.

Then I sew the skin!

SOF Build: Frame complete!

2012-01-29T19:50:00.000-05:00

Faring blocks in place and Keelson completed; not bad for a afternoon. Joined on yet another plane the kayak has become solid to move about.

That's all I had planned on doing today.

I popped back downstairs to grab a pack of noodles from the pantry for supper. Before I remembered what I had descended the stairs for I had both stringers tied in place.

Although tightly latched; I still placed a small peg in each stringer joining it to the kayak. While I'm certain it isn't required; one small peg can ease your mind while building!

By the time I remembered the noodles....

Frame complete!

SOF Build: Sinew, deck ridges, masik and Stem

2012-01-28T01:10:00.000-05:00

Tied to the land due to an absolutely ridiculous string of weather has been horrible; yet providing time for some rest and kayak building none the less. Today I hauled out the sinew tying together the strong gunwales; it honestly seemed a little overdone. Yet it's another example of just how sturdy these crafts are built. Pegged, lashed together, and held together by it's skin; a flexible but sturdy craft.

The final ribs in place the night before; it felt nice to be done that part of the build. It was awesome to see it finally looking more like a kayak and less like a snowshoe!! I pegged in two extra rear deck beams which are not called for in any of the plans. However I wished to "beef up" the back for any scramble recovery that may occur. While rolling is key...I think we've all been out of our boat in 3m swells before...I know I have! I will add a further two beams tomorrow to run from there to the backrest.

I had found a large alder with a big bend while out in Trinity bay. After much internal debate on it's strength and durability I decided to go for it and use it to make my masik.

After cutting out some grooves for the forward deck ridges I was surprised that my eyeball method was fairly bang on with the level! I'm improving!

Masik debarked and sanded; forward deck beams pegged in. She's really starting to take shape! My buddy Rob dropped in to see the progress. (I told him it's nice to get company as the cat is being ignorant and not talking to me.)

Rob and I made a few measurements, caught up on the news, and half planned 3 kayak trips. There are not many people from my childhood I still have much in common with; it's great to have Rob around. We roughed out the forward stem piece which I shall finish up tomorrow. Luck would have it 20cm of snow and high winds forecasted for tomorrow; which will have me doing "hard time" behind 4 walls yet again.

Depending on my overall mood tomorrow I could really get quite a bit done.

The cockpit is the next big part I have to think about. I have some ideas which I'll get into in a later post.

For a guy who can't build a box out of 4 equal pieces of board; I'm beginning to impress myself!

SOF Build: Ribs, steak and mixed berries

2012-01-25T02:07:00.000-05:00

Having the house to myself for the past week the house has temporarily turned into a functional kayakers house. One kayak sits in the living room to stay nice and dry, my steam box sits atop my sink. It doesn't seem to impede my "cooking for one" lifestyle this week. Steak and mixed fruit for supper!! By the time supper was done I could bend some more ribs!

After experimenting with the steam box I wasn't pleased with the low yield of success. One person wrote me and said that steaming it could be allowing the sap and such to seep out of it making it brittle. Heck sounded about right for what I was seeing. I decided to use the method pointed out to me by Sean Dawe in Cesars Bark Canoe NFB video. No harm in trying I figured!! Using one of my wife's old pots ( or maybe it looks old cause she likes it and uses it alot...who knows!) I placed one rib end in the boiling water and with a coffee cup poured hot water down both sides.

Using the bending Jig I made up (note army belt put to good use!)......

I had fantastic results with only about 10 percent failure. Much quicker, and productive method.

I still have some ribs to finish up tomorrow....alas I am city bound with neighbours and noise restrictions after hours......

And I got some more stock to mill!!

Snap crackle: Not glorious sounds while bending ribs

2012-01-23T04:46:00.001-05:00

Steam box ready to go. I over complicated it by adding a "add water" spout and a much too long hose...not to mention tape isnt a good joining substance involving steam!

After initatial testing the hose was shortened and some 100 mile an hour tape brought up from the basement to make it all work well. Solid! Worked like a charm.

Ribs ready to steam

One hour later I pulled the steaming hot juniper from the box 1 at a time. I had but only one success out of 4. Kinda disappointing. I have found that there are quite a few knots in this wood and I had them much thicker than what the book asked for.

So unfortunately the rest look like this!! I began to wonder if chewing the ribs would be easier for me....my dentist disagrees.

All good. A learning experience.

Tonight attempt 2 with some solid "experience" and some nifty tricks passed on to me to hopefully make it a tad easier and productive!

Viking in the cliff.

2012-01-21T02:15:00.000-05:00

David Bowie"Starman" turned up just a little too loud pounded on the car speakers as I got ready. Regardless of how fun or interesting the boat building project was; I was getting cabin fever after a week off the water. Chapel cove 08h00; and ready to paddle.

Colours magnified erosion. Towering red cliffs diverted the South and westerly winds; tossing clouds above. Trees danced in the rhythmic gusts. Streams attraction to the sea frozen in towering icicles; doing their time as temporarily prisoners to the season.

Exposed rockface sloping gently into the sea was too tempting to not "seal" land upon. The rock slimy with alage made for a interesting shuffle up the stone slipway. Small patches of mulloscus provided grip under portage boots as I pulled my craft.

I spent some time looking around the huge rock for fossils or any little things of interest. I found mini ecosystems in tidal pools. Signs of spring and my overall requirement for connection to this place were evident in every inch of this beautiful topography.

Seal launching back into the calm of the headland; under sculptures of the sea. Our animal brains are hardwired to spot human faces; thus we see them in clouds,mountains...even toast sometimes. One of my favorite humans the late Carl Sagan claimed spotting human faces to be an evolutionary trait. This massive cliff face became a canvas to my "evolved" mind. A viking captured by the earth.

A lone clopse of wood somehow remains gripped to the Harbour main point. Looking out past the calm; I could see the westerly wind finally pitching across the vast expanse of Conception bay. The slow swell would soon turn to a choppy mess of windwave across such a large fetch. Solo paddling here in the winter I tend to listen to my instincts and decided this was as far as I would explore.

A very short paddle along a very beautiful section of the Avalons vast coastline. I don't know how many more kilometers remain on my quest; but I look forward to each one.

SOF build: Family, friends, and progress

2012-01-16T23:37:00.000-05:00

3 foot nothing. Nothing but muscle, bone and a desire to help and learn. No talk would be heard about a young juniper being "too big for him to lift". Excited to be helping knowing that this tree would become part of our kayak back in the city.

Rob lending yet another helping hand in milling up this juniper into ribs for the kayak. Without a table saw of my own Rob's help has been paramount; making a lot of hand sawing easy work.

Good bending stock all milled and ready to go!

Cut a little long I'll be trimming these down in the coming days.

Stringers and runner cut. Material for the keelson ready to go.

My oldest excited to buy 59 cent dowels and spending time with dad. I was just as happy!

the end result: A kayak. time spent with friends and bonding and teaching my oldest during very impressionable years.

Life has had me shore bound as my wife and kids get ready for a trip back to Ontario to visit family. While I'll be missing them I know I need to get back on the water and re balance.

More pictures from the brine to come soon!

Pegging the gunwales

2012-01-13T18:40:00.000-05:00

Checking out symmetry today; all looked good to me.

Gunwales all pegged together..I may have gone a little overboard.

Next week is deck beams and ribs!

However now....heading to Trinity bay to do some kayaking!! See you guys in a few days.

SOF Build: Gunwales, Mortise, and shaped!

2012-01-12T19:47:00.001-05:00

Tracking down my saw horses and tools was a bit of a challenge. More box's still unpacked at the new home. Finally today I got some of the SOF started.

A plus of having it in my den is our old desktop computer is still hooked up down there. Eiichi Ito's awesome "How to cook your Qajaq"; and his facebook photo's of his current SOF build (#12!!) I had all the directed required at arms length.

Of course some bleeding is key to any amateur kayak builder.

Today I cut all the mortise for the ribs and shaped the gunwales. Drilling out the holes with a hand drill and jig and cleaning them up with a chisel was pretty relaxing!

|Shaped, rib mortises all done..

And starting to look like a kayak!

Blow me down bluff and brevity

2012-01-11T21:17:00.001-05:00

The hissing of a dovkies wings taking flight both promulgated my approach and labeled just how serene this warm day in January was. Winter couldn't have felt further away.

The more I thought about the possible adit I had found a few days back; the more I began to doubt my find. I was right to doubt. Just a little further out the bay I quickly found the actual abandoned 1850's coppermine.

Partially obstructed by shrubs and alder the adit extended a mere 6 feet in. The blasting holes verified what I had found was indeed the Holyrood coppermine. Fine spot to camp!

Rounding Blow me down bluff I encountered the softest rolling swell I've seen here on the rock. Barely enough to even see and just enough to make a slow lullaby song on the rockface.

Traditional saltbox homes on grassy fields; farms once cut from the forest by Irish settlers. Two common goldeneye took to flight as I entered into this beautiful outport. 60 km from the city; and two worlds apart.

Chapels cove. Named after an english merchant who long ago dried his fish along this beautiful beach.

Daylight brief and after a long week; I turned back.

I had made decisions this week that I are both life changing and for the best. Hard decisions. Hanging upside down in my kayak taking pictures can put things in perspective. Looking through the shots upon rolling back up; the plethora of life below was reassuring to me.

Brevity seemed to reflect this trip. This post. This day.

Brevity describes our time here.

Time to start living.

Skin on frame kayak; frozen "bits" and baywops.

2012-01-08T22:52:00.000-05:00

So it's final. After a year of talking about doing it, liking to do it, planning on doing it...I'm finally making a SOF. The skins been ordered Sinew to be picked up tomorrow. Still working on some bending stock but was honestly thinking of using alder. Still looking into that part. I decide to go get some wood to begin on the gunwales yesterday. Today I awoke late and lounged around watching TV. I finally kicked my butt out the door to go practice in the afternoon.

The picture says it all really. Well long story short..... that look from my Gopro is of sheer agony and pain. My relief zipper was accidentally left open....wet exit....ouch!!

After warming my retreated man parts I hauled up to my buddy's house on a quiet cul du sac. "Easy to tell were baywops; a quiet cul du sac and were building boats!" I shouted laughing as I off loaded my lumber. We got the forms and gunwales cut out in quick order and caught up on our "fantastic" weeks we both have had.

My wife cleaned up our basement (which we never use) and put down some cardboard.... Presto! it's now a fancy boat building shed! I figure it's gonna be a great project on those days where paddling is not an option. Not to mention I love the idea of something made with my own hands propelling me into nature.

...I just started this one and I have another planned...

Stay tuned!!

North Arm Holyrood: Coppermine search

2012-01-06T21:28:00.000-05:00

Erosion created a boulder field a hundred meters below along the sea coast. Hillside lichen decorating rocks who's abrasive corners are slowly becoming pacified by the sea.. A bantam inquiry was driving me on this paddle; to be precise my obsession with old abandoned mines. A word of mouth rumour I had quasi-confirmed by vague adit references online. Another copper mine; this one again only visible from the sea.

Launching from North arm I smiled to see that some kid's still had a raft moored just off shore. Homes dotting the coast a mix between modest dwellings; and video surveillance mansions. Intermingled in a funny mix of poverty, gentry, and recreation that somehow seemed to work from the waters edge.

Keeping close to the shore my eyes peers between the evergreens for a hidden entrance. Between the lack of garbage and rugged shoreline Northern arm on a calm day in January was about the best a guy could ask for as I explored. Clean beaches aside from the seagull snacks that hadn't opened as desired.

I made it to one of my possibilities labelled on my map as a spot the mine may have been. Being that the mine was dug around the same time as the Avondale mine in 1880 I was hoping for a larger adit or tunnel. Unfortunately what appeared to be a tiny adit was mostly filled in by the sea. While I still had two more areas along the western side of the bay to check for other signs; the wind was beginning to become a concern.

Two 1m waves broke the calmness of the day. I turned to see whitecaps coming; Within seconds and as the wall approached white capped waves were misting under the fetch of wind racing out of the hills. The warm wind ahead of the storm smelled of spring and seemed to crackle as it first pitched overhead. 70km/hr which was predicted was quickly outdone!

Even with the small fetch across Holyrood bay the wind was feeling a lot more than a 70 km/hr breeze; and the gusts were insane. (I would later discover it was clocked at a sustained 105km/hr..56 knots!)

Turning back into the wind it was taking 8 paddle strokes to move from dead stop to crawl. Reluctantly I headed back in.

The small hamlet of "Burnt stump" was relatively calm. Having my day somewhat shortened I took my time exploring the head of the bay. A example of Newfoundland wooden boat building laid rotting above the high water mark; an unfortunate reminder of a dead skill set here. I had a coffee checking out every inch of this craft;sound muted by the roaring river in the next cove.

North Arm River tumbles into the head of the aptly named North Arm of Holyrood bay. A roaring torrent of water almost seemed minute dwarfed under the Timmins and Burwetts mountains.

As I packed up to go home I couldn't help but notice the sun lingering a little longer than my last paddle. Minute by minute we'll slowly gain 59 minutes of sun by the end of January; by end March we'll be back to 13 hour's of sunlight.Minute signs of optimism in the cold North Atlantic. A reminder that even during the dark spells light is never far away.

The dark times we have gives us the gift to rest, plan, and most importantly dream.

Fire starting with Jasper

2012-01-02T23:54:00.000-05:00

While many people were ringing in the new year with diet's that will last about 2 weeks and work out programs that will see their last and first day....I was very ill.

I don't drink much. And that was very evident as the sun rose and my world was spinning. The 1st sunrise of 2012 wasn't going well! I wouldn't dare utter the words "never again" as they usually ring as typical lingo for someone suffering my self inflicted agony.

None the less after keeping down some water I did some practice sparking with the jasper I had found in my last post and a piece of old file.

After hitting the jasper the first time it cracked in half providing a sharp edge in which the steel under friction would fly off as sparks. With little to no damage to the rock as shown.

Doing well on "survivor challenges" seemed to be the joke of the day as I messed about with this new skill. If nothing else it's a neat little trick to show the kids; and another tool in the box of survival tricks!

A discombobulated saga of Jasper and the Water devil

2011-12-31T01:33:00.001-05:00

Gale force winds of 35 knots were hammering my tiny abode atop the hills of Kilbride. A quick message from fellow paddler Alex McGruer said Bay Bulls would be my best bet close to home in the SW Gale. Adding in a quick note to be aware of how the wind pitches off the hills about half way out the harbour...it had ripped his paddle from his hand before!

Alex wasnt wrong; a perfect place in a SW gale! A small 2m gentle rolling swell outside was looking very welcoming. The morning sun warm and welcoming in the morning stillness. Somehow I had arrived at a launch before 10h00 which is totally out of character; and may be considered a Christmas miracle in itself.

I stuck to shore and took my time.Stopping to look around and beachcoam. As I looked further out the harbour it was becoming obvious I wouldnt be going too far; as wind ripped across the water sending spray everywhere. However I was pretty content just to be outside. I laughed to myself at the irony of the sign....Swimming in December continues to be an serious social issue here in Newfoundland ...... I began to think about starting a facebook group to raise awareness of this silent killer. =0)

It's the little things that keep me going!

Finding a strange looking rock I stuck it in my PFD pocket next to the faded cliff bar rapper, broken pencil and notepad; that appeared to have been there for eons. Later armed with my deadly skills in the art of Google-fu I would start with scientific searches such as "Rock". I then would add descriptive words like "shiny" and "brown."(...which basically involves googling rocks all night .....) .until I find myself in a weird part of the internet watching 1970's Bollywood movies.Thankfully a geology forum came to my rescue giving me quick confirmation of my lucky guess that it was in fact a beautiful piece of Jasper tumbled smooth by the sea. Having confirmation I began to look at it's past usage in history; and discovered it's fire making abilities! A new skill to practice has been found!!

*********Side note*********

( As I write this my wife just asked if " I was seriously doing that on the couch"..."that" being striking the Jasper with a pocket knife to create sparks..and yes ...I guess I was doing "that")

*******Side note ends********

And back to the paddle!!! Remains of rugged points dotted the eastern shoreline; brightly coloured with lichens and algae.The further I paddled out the harbour I noticed just how hard it was to control my kayak in the side on gusts of 50 knots (as Alex had mentioned). I decided to venture no further.

On my short return leg; I began to hear what sounded like a huge waterfall. I looked left to see something I had never seen before. A small water devil came out of bay bulls harbour!!! As if it has spotted me it turned directly along my axis and grew about 30 feet high. And moving fast. I cursed out loud using every biblical reference abridged with any curse that danced down my tongue; while looking around for a spot to land. Then as quickly as it had started the wall of water dropped back into the harbour as if it hit a brick wall 100m away. Above is a blurry/crappy shot of the remains of the water devil blowing away in the wind.

I hauled into Bay Bulls river to drink a coffee and digest what had happened. My heart still beating rapid.

This world is truly an amazing place full of awesomeness.

All the best in 2012..I'll hopefully see you all there!!

Merry Christmas!!

2011-12-24T18:05:00.003-05:00

Confused choppy water of St. Philips today. Not quite the NW wind I was expecting but a nice relaxing paddle for Christmas eve.

Snow clouds

I was actually kinda surprised to run in to anyone down here today. Sean, Tony, dean and Alex were out enjoying the day. Instead of paddling down the shoreline to the waterfall I decided to hang around do a few rolls, fail on a couple, attempt to fix my foot pegs standing in the surf (not a great idea) and had a pretty relaxing day. Sean's Greenland kayak really got me wanting to start building. Maybe in the new year.

From myself and my family Merry Christmas to all who follow along on my journeys!! I don't have any trip planned for tomorrow...but boxing day is already booked!

Enjoy the time with family and friends. All the best!!

Lee Gilbert

Holyrood: Charles law & a magic lantern show

2011-12-23T14:21:00.002-05:00

My wifes dream come true. The "living room kayak" departs for Holyrood.

Evening Telegram: November 15, 1898

"The Photographer. - Mr. Jas Vey, photographer, returned to town yesterday from Holyrood, where he had been engaged taking several views of the place. He proceeds on Thursday next to Bell Isle, where he purposes giving a magic lantern and photograph entertainment. "

There I was over 113 years later; a calm afternoon under a blanket of cold blue sky. Mr Vey had found importance to bring his camera equipment here. Wielding cumbersome camera equipment to capture a moment in time. I couldn't help but feel a connection to Jas as I floated along ; a understanding as to what propelled him. Snapping a photo of Georges Mountain; I couldn't help but to think how much camera's, magic lanterns and story telling has remained constant over the years; albeit through different mediums.

I decided to remain in the inner harbour out of the strong westerly wind. I wasn't much in the mood to battle against the elements honestly. In fact I was very content lazily bobbing around checking out the shoreline.

What I first assumed was a old fisherman's hotel or stage I later discovered was the first newly constructed building for a world class marine research facility. While it's only a small portion of this education facility once it is completed; it truly does fit into the quaint atmosphere of the inner harbour.

Meandering down the shoreline. Far off cliffs just didn't seem to call me to explore them as they normally so. I was quite content ruddering and bow drawling through slightly submerged rocks. Taking time to enjoy a cup of coffee from my thermos; along a shoreline of evergreens veiled with a light dusting of white.

By half past three the sun was disapearing in the ever shortening day. Topography of the horizon engulfed the sun sooner than I had anticipated . As light faded I paddled back into the boat basin; dodging slabs of ice dislodged from the shallows by rising tide.

I closed a quiet day exploring the remains of a differnt time that span's the river inside the boat basin. Cold metal standing quiet where trains once rumbled over narrow tracks. The peaceful glide of my kayak into this river valley was truly something. The sound of ice clicking of chines; an absolute stillness. A perfect end.

A reintroduction to Charles law ended my paddle day ( of course my brain somehow retained the law since grade 2). Watching a plastic bottle crinkle in elementary school was not quite as scary as looking up to see my already narrow kayak had become slimmer!! In a panic I got out to see my kayak hatch sucked near to the bottom of the hull but still somehow still in place!

Pulling with all my might I managed to open my hatch under strained cold fingers. Thankfully inflating my fiberglass hull back to factory specifications. Both I and my kayak gave a sign of relief.

While Mr Jas Vey could only dream of today where his pictures and stories would circle this world in seconds; I now hit "publish".

A"photograph and Magic lantern show" in 2011 fashion.

Conflict, stabbing, and Greenland rolling

2011-12-20T00:48:00.002-05:00

It's been a hectic week. It all started by being awaken by my son to watch as K-9 units sniffed my door and forensic teams bagged evidence on my street. My children looked on.

A heinous dawning turned out to be worse week I've had the pleasure to experience in a long time.

Algid winds of change pushed my hand this week in more ways than one. I won't poison you with all the negative stuff; life had just done it's thing. It sucked. Solace was found in that fleeting moment as my eyes opened to greet life each morning. The feeling of how great it was to be alive destroyed moments later as my stomach churned with reality. Kayaking didn't happen all week. My Saturday and Sunday were spent vegging out; no drive to do anything. Sunday night I had had enough of giving into all the bullshit. Paddle in hand and kayak on shoulder off I went.

My face burned as my brain screamed in agony; my eyes froze shut in between rolls. The temperature dove with the sun. Submerged became a welcomed comfort to the cold wind of night. Moments of silence and distraction. Snot poured down my face as I caught my breath between rolls.

As my Greenland paddle sliced the water; I found the answers I have been looking for. Anger turned into empowerment. I smiled. Life had forced my hand to live the way I wanted. It had gotten bored awaiting my decision to lead the simple life that I craved. It knew I wouldn't change unless forced. The conversations, the stabbings, the sick stomach all made sense now. Excitement filled pockets in my spirit where fear had earlier resided. Anger towards individuals turned to smiles of how much they had empowered me with their attempt to suppress.

I had won; and they had no idea.

My wife and I talked about the future and where we wanted to be.

Nothing would hold us back ever again.

All my cameras are now charged. My kayak thawing in the living room As I write this.

Tomorrow I explore; empowered by yesterday.

Imagination into reality; here we come.

"Let go of the past and go for the future. Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you imagined."

- Henry David Thoreau

Snow Dwy eyes

2011-12-12T21:23:00.001-05:00

Messengers of winter sent on the backs of a gale. Small bands of snow dwy roared down the bay causing brief whiteout conditions as they passed. 30 knot winds sent wave after wave of dwies out into the North Atlantic. Many people have put their boats away or suggest "Picking your day" to go out. Picking your day in Newfoundland is a good way to stay ashore......pretty well from September to June! I took to the water Sunday out into what my VHF described as gale force winds increasing to 35 knots.

I was quickly enveloped into miniature blizzard's; followed by beautiful autumn like moments of sun and warmth. Minute snowflakes of perfect design commanded attention before they melted away.

Conditions outside the bay were a bit beyond the comfort zone solo with 4m breaking wind waves bouncing everywhere. I stuck my nose outside just long enough to see a dark band of cloud fastly approaching; churning the water black as night on the horizon. I retreated to a small untouched cove for coffee.

Winters sun hanging low in the sky hadn't graced these coves since daybreak. Pebbles encased in think layers of crystal clear ice seemed to shoot in all direction under foot. Kelp and seaweed glazed; it's energy preserved in a casement for spring release.

The dark blue of dusk overpowered near every colour. Icicles dripped in tune to an unseen conductor. A song that would soon stop in the rapidly dropping temperature. Each drop became slower and smaller than the last. Soon the daytime orchestra of hundreds of bass drops and alto drips turned silent; as the haunting howl of winters wind took the stage.

My Greenland paddle held it's red defiantly in the hues. A new paddle Joe O'Blenis had crafted for me propelled my journey through the dwys and gales. Gliding through the water with ease; a new tool to relax with. Not a new paddle so much as an addition to my frame of mind. Cadence of my blade turned into a thoughtless motion freeing my mind for the important things. The seconds, the minutes, the hours.

Shivering from the chill; that even warm drink could not keep at bay; I paddled out into the protected cove to let the last bit of sun warm my frozen eyelashes. Closed together they melted in the suns reach; dripping like tears into the sea.

I realized the drips from my frozen eyes had fallen upon my camera. Perfect droplets of water now frozen onto my second set of eyes I use to share with the world. Lining up the one frozen droplet on the lens onto the sun; I snapped a picture. End of day and paddle.

The thick band of storm had pitched as I walked up my driveway; kayak hanging off my shoulder. Gales, dwys, snowstorms..... staying ashore just isn't a option for me. Each day and every obstacle has it's place to paddle. As skill and confidence builds so does my options. Embracing the options time and space throws at me is my only choice. Exploring the possibilities within those options is what my story becomes.

Inclement is inviting.

Calm days enticing.

Explore.

Towards a happily ever after

2011-12-09T19:45:00.000-05:00

(New camera .....note finger getting use to placement!!)

Early winter in Ontario last year was fairly placid. However November out here in the North Atlantic has been gale force winds near daily. An escape to "the bay" has become a weekend event sans my own vehicle; as it's my only real way to get on the water. Luckily my son got his own wheels and offered me a lift to the beach. (I believe his ride has slightly more metal than my Kia)

Small 1 meter waves pushed slowly onto the shoreline in a roar of thousands of rounded pebbles. Contained in this very large bay there is always something new happening depending on the wind, tides, and season. NNW wind pushed small swell making for a little fun dodging rocks and catching waves near shore.

Saturday's wayfaring was far from an epic saga; none the less it was still a small segiment of my ongoing chapter out here. I spent a few hours walking the cliffs. Watching. Sitting taking time to meditate till shivering and convulsions could not be contained with my concentration; then moving to my next haunt.

Evening calmed the sea as I rock hopped; pulling into little coves to beach comb.

Saturday the sea provided...

A new 15 dollar lure for free.

**********************************************************************************
Monday

"Hopeall-Bay may be readily reconized by Hope-all head; A remarkable bluff 407 feet high that forms the west point of the entrance, and is termination of a tongue of land 220 feet high, that forms the west side of Hope-all bay and the east side of New Hr.This Bay is 2 1/3 miles deep and nearly 1 1/2 miles wide at the entrance, narrowing to the head which is 6 1/2 cables broad. After entering the water deepens to 22 fathoms, with shelter in all winds but those from N.W to N.N.E. A few Houses are built round the head."

-The Newfoundland Pilot 1878

My grandfather as a boy had found pieces of old muskets on top the headland; yet no one in my family could recall ever hearing of houses built "round the head". These small pieces of information seems to be lost over the years here in Newfoundland. The culture of children being "seen and not heard" prevented a generation of questions; leaving the inquisitive like myself with large gaps of local history missing. I looked trying to picture the modest houses in the few places one could be afforded. Midday sun warm enough to afford wearing only a tshirt in cool comfort as \i explored.

Even though I had the day off work I had a strong feeling akin to skipping school as a kid. Just how institutions, schedules, and work can make one feel almost guilty during a day off. Which of course signaled to me I need to get out camping and get away from it all...... really soon!

I couldn't bring myself to ascend Hopeall head to overlook the garbage left behind. It didnt seem right. Instead of a panoramic view of trinity bay; I would have only seen the green and white bottles. Illuminated by their "perfection," against a canvas of natures dissymmetry .

Maybe it was nostalgia from my childhood; but I couldn't remember garbage strewn on the beach 20 or 30 years ago. Pollution then seemed like a problem in a far away land. Elementary school discussions on pollution seemed more like a another fairy tale than reality at that time. I guess all those discussions, posters, and collages cemented together with alymers glue really didnt help. Discussions and awareness had added nothing but a level of bureaucratic; where action was needed in lieu. How many hours was wasted talking; and what "happly ever after" have we left?

The next cove was clean with mostly wood debris; yet 35 cents worth of PET bottles rewarded my trouble of landing. The sun long since set behind the hills; the air rapidly became chilled. Frozen neoprene gloves stinging as I pulled them back on; breath steaming, eyes watering.

Turrs and Bullbirds (common murr and dovekie) sat all along the shore undisturbed or alerted to my presence. Wintering here a bullbird seemed like the most defenseless animal I've ever saw. Swimming at top speed this plump lilliputain thing seemed like a kayaker trying to paddle fast as he could with a broom handle. As he took to the dive he showed just how graceful this auckward bird really was.

Sundown began to rob the surrounding world of colour; draining slowly away leaving the dark hues of dusk. A faint flick of a lighter 1km ahead gave my fathers position away. Expecting me in around dark and had come to help me bring up my gear. I had found a few things for him that are used here by many of the folks who enjoy trouting for sea trout; as they make their run upstream to spawn here.

Foam net floats are somewhat of a hot commidity out here. My father now has an ample supply due to my collection of them I find in the harder to reach beaches along the coast. Truly an art form many of the local men in the community come and trade him these homemade bobbers for flytying feathers, and other trouting nicknacks. My father is one of the experts along these parts. A conservationist ensuring large breeders are released back into the ponds, and using "Trinity bay democracy" to ensure others do the same.

A few completed to test ( long distance flight trajectory is beyond paramount) trade, and share.

A little ingenuity and yet another free barter currency along our shorelines.

Small actions towards a happily ever after.

BOOOO YAHHHH!

2011-12-08T12:14:00.007-05:00

An email I found in my inbox this morning!!!
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Good morning Lee,

I am pleased to announce that your photo has been selected as the 3rd place winner in this year's Canadian Heritage Rivers System Photo Contest!

As the third place winner, your photo will be featured in the Spring 2012 issue of Canoeroots & Family Camping magazine and will tour with the 2012 Reel Paddling Film Festival. You will also be receiving:

Parks Canada Family/Group Discovery Pass
Salus Marine Wear “Eddy” Paddle and Sport PFD
4-Pack of 1-year print Rapid Media subscriptions consisting of subscriptions to Rapid, Adventure Kayak, Canoeroots & Family Camping, and Kayak Anglermagazines

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Very Very Very excited!!

My first published piece of work!! Look for it at the Reel Paddling Festival in the spring!!

Cola cove: A weekend in Mount Eagle bay

2011-11-28T21:41:00.000-05:00

It's been a rough week. With my kayak transporter still in the shop, I was grounded. Friday marked the longest time I had been off the brine in two years; and it was really getting me down. Rental companies don't hand out cars with kayak roof racks unfortunately. A whole week without my passion, I was beyond ready to relinquish suburbia and get back to real life.

Coffee steaming early Saturday morning. Strong smell of burning wood and slight smell of oil in my fathers garage. My Avocet would be a good surrogate for my Legend. A worthy catalysis for relaxation.

Mermaid purses covered the beach. Ensconced in beds of kelp torn from the ocean from the relentless gale force winds and surf we've had over the past month. All however showed signs of the skates exit from it;s cocoon; a welcomed sign of a healthy population. The winds and my overall exhaustion from a formitable week contained me to Mount Eagle bay. I took pleasure in the warm containment of exhaustion and mother nature as I launched from Gilbert's beach.

A simple thing like walking on a beach many people take for granted. For the past 2 years walking has been a challenge to me. Following my oldest son and my father to the beach last year; my ankle blew out twice before I sat on the beach letting them carry on. It was beyond frustrating. 29 years old and I couldn't even manage to walk. With the use of a brace I've gained a lot of mobility back. I no longer cringe every step and no longer have to pop my ankle back in place while puking. While still watching my step I now enjoy every second. One injury had taken this amazing ability away from me before; I wouldn't take something so wonderful for granted again.

Bottles unfortunately covered the small coves as I paddled along. Soon spotting and removing the bottles became a game. Every cove held a multitude among the driftwood. The high tide reach decorated in a twisted collage of seaweed, bleached twisted wood, and trash. I stopped at each cove and scowered the beach slowly. Relaxing, enjoying life and giving back; by packing the garbage out.

A bottle jammed among a rocky shoreline....what better place to practice!! Spotting each bottle I jumped out of my kayak and swam ashore; kayak in tow. Bottles providing an obtainable goal; a spot to attempt to land. Practice in rough landings at unknown intervals to keep me honest; where I would normally pick the "best"area to practice swimming ashore I now had something to simulate a "no decision but to land " location. The water cold even through my thermal layers as I swam, practiced and collected.

Exhausted from multiple swims and cold; the "beach clean up" turned into a challenge to look closely and focus on the moment. Catching my breath and drinking warm gatoraide to stave off the cold I took time to appreciate the jewels of fragile life around me. Small glimpses of beauty washed upon the shore. A symbol of everything I love among signs of everything I despise.

5 coves, 8 swims to rocky outcrops.....and a little swell to play in. Re balanced I headed home landing just after sunset. Lifting my kayak full to the brim with plastic bottles upon my shoulder; to a soundtrack of crashing waves. -5 celcius my breath trailed my slow walk up the beach.

Finally a good exhaustion to sleep in.

Sunday brought the idea to involve my family in the clean up; and make it fun. My oldest decided he would bring his little Arctic Cat to help haul the garbage off the beach in front of our house. One large garbage bag quickly filled from an unfortunately abundant supply of discarded drink containers. We decided to head to another beach in our bay to do what else we could.

Every boulder became a mountain to climb. My oldest scouted for bottles from each large rock he found. A quick addition of Newfoundland language turned into a cultural addition to boot. I posed the question of Arn? (Newfoundlander for "do you have any") as he scouted ahead. Responses carried on the strong wind was a resounding "Narn" ("No I got nothing") or "YES OVEEEERRR DEEEEEAAAAARRRRR DADDYYY!!" Little legs moving as fast as they could over the bolder strewn beach. Many times distracted by a stick or a trip and tumble. Another full garbage bag we returned home climbing any cliff or large boulder we could find.

A couple km's under our belt and a great day outside. Fresh awake from his nap my youngest even found employment in our operations washing center. As enthusiastic as his older brother had been in his part....and maybe a little more wet!

While cleaning our bottles mom found something we had overlooked in our fun. Another message in a bottle! My son was ecstatic! With a little encouragement from me he was flat out over hyper and over the moon! Tomorrow Caleb will contact Josh to discuss where the bottle was found. What a excellent find for a 5 year old to cap off a great day!

A simple plastic bottle. A kayak training tool, a free currency, a vessel for a message. And most importantly a way to instill a love for the outdoor in my boys. 4 bags of bottles mark two weeks of occasionally cleaning up a random beach. A small dent in the constant garbage finding it's ways to the truly wild places still left in this province. My small part may not ever amount to the saving of these places. However I hope the eyes of my two boys looking for purpose in this world we live; will remember 4 mere bags as something much bigger.

And maybe just maybe the answers are within them.

Light at the end of the tunnel

2011-11-25T11:51:00.002-05:00

(abandoned Copper mine circa 1880 Avondale)

Tomorrow will mark 13 days of no kayaking. My car is still being repaired. Having stored two kayaks in Trinity bay we are taking the rental car; and after the longest time sans water in years...

Theres light at the end of the tunnel!!

Trinity bay here I come!

07h30 In Kilbride

2011-11-19T14:42:00.000-05:00

After a work week of travelling around the island and couple thousand kilometers on the road; I was very glad to get back to my own bed in Kilbride. At Midnight I drifted off to sleep with the decision to awake early to get a long nice paddle in. To relax and get back "in sync".

07h30 my oldest awoke me. I drank my coffee and entertained him till mom woke up. Opening the window to get a picture of light snow that was blanketing my car and kayak seemed like a good way to start a future blog post and paddle.

I noticed my car was not where it was parked the night before. In fact someone was so messed up that they drove across my neighbours lawn and into my car destroying the passenger side. A tidy 3 point turn showed their taking off before someone noticed.

My day has been filled full of very annoying people. from Royal Newfoundland Constabulary Dispatch who wouldn't even send over a car or officer...I had to bum a ride across the city to report it. To insurance adjusters and investigators who wont come till Monday-Wens. Finding a rental car has been a all day thing where local phone numbers land you in a endless cycle of please press 2, please press 6, i'm sorry that number is invalid..... Luckily I couldn't find a ride home after giving my statement so the 10km walk gave me time to cool down...and realize "crocs" were not a great idea!

All that said I hope the person who messed up my car really get's the help they need. It's too easy to look outside and see just how my life is affected. However the truck prints leading to the destruction of my car has a much sadder story than any vehicle damage. I'm sure his family deals with much more damage each day they live.

No kayaking today...

Shadows and aberrations in reality

2011-11-16T15:04:00.000-05:00

"The mountains, the forest, and the sea, render men savage; they develop the fierce, but yet do not destroy the human."

-Victor Hugo

Slamming doors as feet thumped quickly down creaking stairs. The smell of fear. Dried dead branches cracked as extended arms pushed forward through the evergreens. Crunching snow barely audible over heart beats; thoughts loudly telling them to get as far away as they could. The eerie quiet as D'Iberville's french troops scanned the hill lines. Blue tunics walking among the homes; still warm and smelling of cooked fish. The settlers had escaped the slaughter. Coming weeks hunger pains and cold would hurt in ways a french volley never could. Village razed. A long spring lay ahead.

I obtained my marine forecast by clambering over rocks and cliffs until elevation provided my required vantage point of Trinity bay. I had landed on the NE side of New Perlican harbour shortly after launch to re adjust some internal stowage that was moving about; and decided to take a peek. Things looked good "outside" from here. Grasses pointed to my easiest route of travel. I took the lands suggestion.

I pushed off from the shoreline.

Rebounding wind waves unable to be absorbed by the granite cliffs made for an enjoyable close shore paddle.Topography suggested little in the realm of landing opportunities; and afforded no pullout spots. The strong southern wind committed me once I rounded the point. A welcomed kind of commitment after such a long work week.

I discovered a respite among the cliffs of New Perlican head. An abberation that didnt appear on my topographical map. Nothing more than a shadow on google earth; yet here lay a 75m long channel which seemed to be in constant twilight even during the midday sun.

Black against an aqua green palate; a codfish swam atop the water. A child like need to poke things with a stick; I lightly poked it's dorsil fin with my paddle causing the fish to slowly swim to the bottom momentarly. Appearing to the surface again it was clear he was in the last moments of life. A bald eagle circled near by. A beautiful cicle.

A low tide beach pitched high as even minimal swell pushed strong waves here onto the cobblestones.Thousands of rounded rocks roaring in the tumble of water. Nostalgia doesnt exist here. The past cannot cross your mind as you climb a ancient cliff to get a differnt view of your surroundings. And nothing could be better than this moment. This is why I paddle.

Thousands of little hands grasped at the air. The huge starfish dislodged from the cliff walls and into the powerful water. Destiny tossed him upon the beach upside down next to my kayak. I placed him on my paddle to record him, to validate in some way his plight and unexpected rescue. His second lease on life; I tossed him back into the channel. I wondered if his mind could comprehend what had just occurred.

A surf launch and my poor attempt to quickly put on my skirt... tested my gussler foot pump for the first time. Stretching my short legs that extra inch to pump gysers of water out of my kayak; bobbing in the rythm of the cove. Kayak dry again; off I went to Turks cove; just around the next point.

Turks cove was even smaller than it appeared on the map. Two visable houses along the yellowed autumn grass. A small wharf and stage the only signs of life on the beach. Poverty had prevented the people of this tiny outport the ability to move into newer upgrades in the fishery. Up until 1972 when the fishery ended here the fishery was still being done much the same it had been since the 16th century. I landed next to a babbling brook that runs across the beach to meet the sea.

Checking my cell service I soon found I wasnt going to make a call for pick up here. While I could go bother someone in their oceanfront homes; I decided that the Sugar loaf mountain which seemed to raise up out of the sea would be a nice way to end the day. The next community over had a few stores where I could call from to get pickup. Measuring distance on my map with my thumb; raising fingers to the horision to check the lasting light... I launched.

No pictures exists of the Sugar loaf or of the paddle around this headland.

I began singing Simon and Garfunkel as the waves grew and grew. A different; but real nervous reaction of mine. The next leg was not a paddle as much as being pushed and thrown by the ocean. Surfing I ruddered and braced for the 5 km trip.The sky turned dark. Knocked over once by the onslaught of black waves contrasted by foaming white tops." Hello darkness my old friend". Waves broke pushed forward past my kayak as the wind dispersed the areated foam into the air. Tight grip on my paddle I was knocked over as I went to brace over a cresting wave...... and found no water. "I've come to talk to you again". "Shuuuuppppp..." the sound of the water entering my ears. A reach out to grasp a wisp of liquid had only concreted my submergence. A fast decent, slowed and stopped as I entered the brine. Back upright. Rudder, paddle hard, rudder, paddle harder. All I could concerate on was wave after wave of blackness. Half my new Werner paddle was missing. A quick look around for the black paddle proved fruitless. Material things on a sea of reality. Paddle harder; rudder.

Sheltered. The north facing harbour of Winterton was dead calm aside my my exuberant "Waaaaahhhhoooo!" as I rounded the Sugarloaf. I pulled into the government wharf and took off my drysuit (as to not look like a 3 apples tall superhero walking up the road in this tiny outport). A quick call for pick up at the gas station I walked back to my kayak picking up plastic and glass bottles as I went. I concluded my day huddled up behind a rock wall drinking coffee; watching the sun explode across the darkened sky.

The sea may make one savage in ways.

However.

Is savage worse than "civilized"?

Overnight trip: Foxtrap to Topsail head Quartz Adit

2011-11-09T20:19:00.000-05:00

Onlookers were clambering atop of fishing boats and onto dry docked vessels to discern what would happen as my kayak met the waves outside the marina. "Fine day for a paddle!" one man shouted from the Wharf side; his words broken in the wind. "Beautiful!!!!" I yelled back. Gale force winds; a big red warning that tends to hover over the island during autumn. While it didn't stop my excursion, it had altered my plans. A two day extensive trip west would have to wait as the westerly gale would make moving forward an affliction I didn't wish to partake in. After a summer and now fall without camping; I had met my end or patience in the city life. Regardless of the weather conditions I was leaving "civilized" life for a bit.

Not one photo exists from the short 2km paddle from the Foxtrap marina to Long pond; where I stopped to explore the aptly named body of water. A pond sandwiched between a mountainous fault line; and a beach pushed high by the relentless pounding of the ocean.

Waves had crashed over me as I smiled ear from ear out in the brine. However paddling along the placid waters of Long pond my muscles began to cool down. Winters wind had begun to chill where the skirt hugged my body. Sweat began to chill as it ran down my back in the staunch wind. I pulled into a tidy grove of tree`s to fight the battle of the chill before it became a war.

Paddling solo I tend to take less risks. Not knowing what the next cove or next crossing would be like; I decided to get warmed up. I took shelter behind a wind stunted spruce. Hot Gatoraide and high calorie chocolate filled my stomach as the calories rushed through my veins. Instant heat. Heat loss prevention. Coffee while not productive in preventing chill; prevented crankiness and improved overall will to live. =0)

A ripple rolled across the pond from the South as I reposed behind the spruce; the weather was changing. I walked up the barachois to find the waves had calmed down quite a bit; as the wind switched to and fro from West to South. I stuck my fingers lengthwise in the sky measuring from the horizon to the sun. I had an hour and a half before sunset; 2 hours of light. A late start hadn't awarded me much time to get a few kilometers behind me.

Dark clouds and the sharp smell of fuel filled the sky as I paddled past towers of antediluvian fuel tanks that mar this lagoon. Two environmental response boats sit in the water foreshadowing. Looking at my map the new plan heading east would land me smack dab in the middle of suburbia by sundown. Camping opportunities were plentiful; however most would be upon front lawns and doorsteps of CBS. Suburban kayak camping.

Back on Conception Bay I was faced some of the largest wind waves I've encountered solo. As I crossed the gap between Kelly`s and Little Bell Island off to my west I was running on 2m breaking windwaves. I was at home. It's strange what we get use to in a kayak. Mere months ago these waves would be enough for me to not launch. Careful to never affront the sea; the waves had slowly become a familiar dance.

My plans may have changed however there was one this along this coast that was on my "to do" list Sleep in the Adit. As the sun I could just make out the glowing violet cliff reflecting a few km ahead. Setting a bearing I danced along the purple waves and red foam.

Just after sunset I made a surf landing onto the rocky yet predictable beach at the Quartz cliff. Last time I came here every 40 seconds 3 larger swells pushed in followed by a period of relatively small waves. I watched a minute or two, confirmed the pattern was the same and went for it. Surfing wave 3 in a near perfect landed. Which was totally destroyed by one slimy rock in which I slipped on as I stepped out of the kayak. Tipping my kayak cockpit into the small oncoming wave as I fell...thus filling it full of water. Not pretty as it should have been; but here I was.

I carried all my worldly posessions above the high tide mark; tying my kayak on and made the short climb up the embankment to the adit. What I had thought was fiberglass in my last visit turned out to be shedded fur of some sort and it reeked of wet dog. The whole back of the cave was covered in the coat. Grabbing some driftwood I swept my new abode out. Coyote, stray dog or whatever it was...wasnt sleeping here tonight. That was my desire anyway.

I made some shelfing for all my essentials; sprucing the place up a little. While I may enjoy living a bare existence; I don't much like mess; regardless of how humble an abode! A quick call to my wife to tell her I was in for the night my oldest required to chat as well. I explained that daddy was in a cave made entirely of those white rocks he loves. Figuring he would be amazed...he wasn't. "Is there bats?" No me by`. No bats``.

He seemed dissapointed.

I settled into my new bivy bag for a fantastic night sleep.

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Civil twilight. My breath greeted the day as it steamed out of my mouth in the cold morning air. 6am. Small swell and no wind. My head pounded. I chugged back some Gatoraide but I knew I had done the damage the night before. I didn't hydrate before bed and now my cranium was reminding me of my errors. My back and ab's didnt hurt, but felt used. It felt good. I treated some water with aquatabs chugged it back. I napped listening to various CBC and VOCM programs; cranking the radio over every commercial break for power. A CBC reporter discussed his chilly night at Occupy St. Johns. The 99% and that other 1%. Percentages that didn't mean a whole lot to me out here to be honest. I had no desire to hear it. Realizing how much of the news actually made no impact on life at this moment; I switched to music.. . I awaited the weather and maybe the time. Really that's all that mattered.

It was morning in the Quartz adit.

I charged up my camera battery on my Burton battery pack as I slept. I drained the rest of the barely charged battery on my morning radio entertainment once I discovered the radio had a plug in. Now instead of cranking the radio every 10 minutes; I drifted in and out of lucid dreams to K-ROCK. One dream was in french which I'm sure was due to me using it Sunday for the first time in over a year. An Inuit lady was instructing me how to find my way back home on the tundra. A short video played of a crack in my fiberglass along the bow of my boat. Another I was living in an dingy apartment building where it was normal for everyone to come over and get water in garbage bags.

That`s what happens in my brain.

I awoke at 10h00 and spent 2 hours sipping coffee, drinking water and eating breakfast. A seagull glided by on the slowly building wind; ironically as a airplane approached just out of site. I laughed out loud at the seagull as it roared past my cave on it's approach to an unseen airport..

No four leg visitors had come in the night that I knew of. None had knawed on my leg anyway. Spiders dangled down as the sun warmed them enough to continue their hunt for food. Maybe their last day of existence as winter sets in. I called my wife for a pick up at topsail beach; a km or so the quartz cave. My headache wasnt getting any better. I cursed myself for ignoring hydration. As I packed up my kit I strolled the beach. Shirt off enjoying the last glimpses of the warm sun. 10 degrees felt warm as it heated my shoulders and back.

Last time at this beach I had thought hard about my wasteful ways.

Action.

I began to pick up and throw the plastic bottles towards my kayak as I strolled the beach looking for rock samples to bring home. I attempted to get them into my open front hatch as I poked around in the tangle of garbage and driftwood along the high tide mark.

A game for the greater good.

While only a mere 15km paddle I had accomplished my goal of sleeping in the old mine, returned here to fix a wrong and pick up some of the mess, and had a great day in the biggest waves I`d paddled solo yet.

Home. Happy. Healthy. And with a spark to get out camping again.

West this time.

******Authors note******

For those interested I have begun recording my past trips via google earth. My end goal being to Paddle the Avalon bay by bay. Cove by cove. Here`s my progress thus far:

Hope you enjoyed!

Wet socks and Guy Fawkes

2011-11-06T00:19:00.000-04:00

After the longest workday in a long time my wife came and picked me up. Pulling my half windsor knot off my neck my head pounding. I had been talking since 06h00 near non stop and my voice was almost gone. I wanted to go home and sleep. " Daddy it's bonfire night tonight" came from my oldest.

We drove out home where Pop had everything ready to go.

Arriving to St.Johns late tonight with another full work day tomorrow....

Well worth it.

The first snow appeared on our door mat tonight. Wet sock season has begun!

All that stands between me and paddling is one more long meeting...and maybe a little sleep.

Clubs and 50 foot mutton's

2011-11-04T21:11:00.001-04:00

Wednesday was KNL's annual general meeting held at the Guv'nors pub. The pub was alive with laughter and the dull roar of hundreds of quiet conversations in the dim light. Huddled around dark wooden tables; blurred sea of faces illuminated with the glow of tea candles. I had been debating joining the local kayak club for a while. Over the past 4 months I had attempted try to get in on a few paddles to even offering to help with their magazine. Zero such luck on either. It seemed like I didn't own the special decoder ring or know the handshake password combo. I was missing my old club!! I did get one message back from the clubs message board after all my posts there. It was one "suggesting" that I didn't paddle on the southern shore solo..."On behalf of KNL we would like to..."

I decided to go to this AGM at a local pub for one last attempt. A kayak meeting in a pub with trip reports. Sounded good to me. I imagined something similar to the Reel paddle festival in Pembroke last year. Having a good time with a ton of great like minded people.

A friendly smiling waitress directed me upstairs for "the kayakers meeting". Maybe there was a separate pub upstairs? With a second hand jacket, a jovial shirt (about giraffes and ceiling fans) and some tore up khakis; I found myself slightly under dressed. Very under dressed in fact....and in a board room. Tables adorned with minute sheets from some past meeting. I dropped a joke about not taking a pen to a pub to fill out the 20 dollar registration to see if anyone had one....nothing. Looking at the club registration sheet all I could see was bureaucratic" internal use only" type stuff.....looked a lot like my 7-5 job. I stood there for a minute waiting for someone to come try and sell me a timeshare. Not my scene.

Within 6 minutes I had arrived made my final decision.and was back on the road. Clubs are great for many people; yet this club was defiantly not for me.

On my way home I got a text from my buddy Rob who was heading out to the garage to work on his boat. We've had little time to get out on the water together over the past few months. So I was more than willing to drop over.

So we glued pieces on his guillemot and caught up (guy got way more patience and talent at this boat building stuff than I). It turned out to be a much better way to pass a night. After being at Rob's I felt more concrete about my decision to just keep paddling with the few I always paddle with. No registration, no decoder rings, no money, no cliques, just kayaking.

Having a busy upcoming weekend at work (boardroom stuff); I had one last opportunity Thursday to get out before a busy few days. I hurried home from work,changed as I walked through the house, and headed strait to Petty Harbour. As I descended down the hills into Petty Hr I was immersed in a cold blue haze as the winter sun hid behind the hills.

3-4m Swells slammed into the shore outside the protected hr. The sheer size of these rolling and breaking waves had me hesitant about venturing out at this time of day.

Walls of "mutton's" spraying 50 feet into the air all down the coastline. With darkness near I decided I didn't want to risk trying to enter back into the small channel after dark. The waves broke in unpredictable ways; sending rolling waves in all directions at the harbours mouth. Fun in the light; not so much in the dark.

Listening to my gut feeling I pulled back into the harbour . The last glimmer of sun pointed out where the realms of land and sky meet.

After this week in my paddling life I've decided two things for certain.

Mon, Tues ,I'm heading off somewhere kayaking.

And most importantly; I think I'm doing just fine solo.

Where once they stood.

2011-10-31T23:33:00.004-04:00

I awoke at the crack of 11h00. An unhealthy serving of pancakes covered in homemade jam; washed down with a couple cups of trans fat free coffee. A mere 8 hours after sunrise (which lay hidden under a mix of fog wind and rain.) I paddled.

Small rolling waves increased into nice swells as they approached the shore. The unseen shoreline stretched like opened hands; grasping deep out into the sea pushed waves up to meet the cliff. Waves rumbled and exploded as the shoreline seemed to edge it`s shoulder towards the onslaught. Closing it's eyes it took yet another hit.

As I paddled toward Topsail beach practicing strokes around rocks; a hole in a cliff of white rock commanded attention and exploration. This is honestly what I live for. The landing was looking like a anti gelcoat rally; however with some good timing I landed unscathed from the wave rock combination.

The cliff lay just below the towering Topsail head. The stone wall appeared to my untrained eye (and a bit of google-fu afterwards) to be Pyrophyllite. The cave which turned out to be a quarry stopped 15 feet into the rock face. I have yet to find any records of this specific site; however it's likely that it was a small quarry from the 1902-1910 time frame. The same mining era that began the Quarry at the "Talc mine" just down the coast.

Some kids had added some wood to sit on and professed love in spray paint. I`ve never seen a cliff like this in my travels; and certainly never seen such a inviting cave to live in! I imagined what a tarp and a few personal effects could do to spruce this place up a little. Cot in the corner, radio on a drift wood shelf...I truly could call this place home! And for those who know me well...it`s not a far stretch in the realm of things I do! (I've lived in worse!)

Just another example of things one will never find in brochures or tourist information. A place when men toiled to dig with hopes and prayers. Weeks perhaps months of someones existence carved this place into nothing more than maybe some family verbal history somewhere. Like a inukshuk of our islands history. Showing that someone was here. Yet leaving no sign of who they had been.

I began roaming the beach searching the flotsam and jetsam for gold bullion, messages in a bottle, bags with dollar signs on them, and the like. Finding a few foam net buoys I put them in my kayak for my father who carves trouting bobbers out of them.. As I passed over other garbage I wondered that if we all had a use for something in this garbage;just how clean this place would be. I had found someones trash which I knew my father would be happy to get. Yet I passed by plastic bottles; a free currency.

Had I lost touch with my heritage where the sea and land provided all? A broken but easily fixable lobster pot lay intertwined within twisted branches of a dead evergreen tree. With little work I could place this back into the sea and reap the benefits of my work. Yet I walked past it all.

It's sickening how ideals change once immersed into a culture of waste for so long. What had happened to the long haired kid full of ideals; and who had I become? Was I too "wealthy" to pick up a few plastic bottles to return for a refund? Why did I not get excited to find free money? Would I pass by dimes and nickles strewn across a city sidewalk? Would I be too proud to pick up coins on a busy parking lot? As heavy rain danced on my drysuit hood; I had much to contemplate.

I paddled my empty boat back to St. Philips where I met an older gentleman who helped me load up my kayak. We chatted for a good 15 minutes in the cool winter rain. He happened to be the harbour master and was a great guy to chat with. We talked about just about everything in general from the new homes going up, oil money in the province, to issues within the harbour. Smells of wood smoke and deep fryer food from the local restaurant filled the air as our conversation danced with ease. I stowed the last of my gear away and bid him a great evening as he retreated to the harbour authority building to warm up.

As I drove back into the city lights my heater pumped out loud over some barely audible tones of the oldie station. Condensation forming on the windsheid where my cap pressed against the cool glass.

I wondered how much free money I leave on those beaches.

Maybe I still have the thoughts of my ancestors; with the ability to expressed them in conversation with ease.

Now to work on my actions.

The hidden channel of Undisclosed bay

2011-10-24T23:07:00.000-04:00

"Live each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influences of each"

-Henry David Thoreau

I dreamt of leaving home and trying to survive at age 5. I had over a few days built a solid lean-to next to a small boggy stream a few kilometers behind my house; room for me and my dog I figured. I then took on the task of convincing my mom to let me and my dog go try to live off the land (she did say I could do anything which was key in my defence case ). Letters stood in for words. I tossed them over the banister from upstairs, others I left in the breadbox and other places they would look. At the time I figured a letter would command more attention. I also decided that all 45 lbs of me would ask for a 12 gauge shotgun. Attached with copious amounts of brown Alymer glue was a collage of black and white drawings cut from a S&R catalogue; of course with ordering information..... I was denied. I compromised for a packed lunch and a BB gun and all day to explore my little piece of paradise. That spark of childhood.

I've never really lost that spark. It still resides inside. At 12 I attempted to join the army via mail; and was rejected. My parents still have the rejection letter that came in a brown government envelope with my name on it; which she opened in a panic. At 17 I got her signature and finally joined the army and left home; taking me around the world for over a decade. Then here. A decade gone, I was in front of a beautiful waterfall in a undisclosed cove. Home.

I edged my kayak in under the fall for a picture; and was surprised as my bow kept moving forward. I stowed my paddle and grasping the slimy cool rocks; I pulled myself inside. The roar of fresh clean water on gelcoat, thumping over the hatch then the louder rumble and pressure of falling water on my drysuit hood.

(A shaky video of inside the cave)

Like a fairy tale come to life I was behind a waterfall in a cave!! A large rock blocked the water access so I climbed out of my kayak scaling the cave walls; perching myself upon the rock sentry. Using my paddle I checked the depth inside to see if I could walk inside. My paddle and the lenght of my arm submerged failed to touch the seabed. Hauling out my flashlight I could see the cave going back 30 m and then make a hard left turn into another channel. Spark turned to fire inside me. This is why I kayak.

The sound of gelcoat rubbing on sharp rocks in the minute swell of the cave forced me back inside my boat. I paddled out slowly still trying to soak in the beauty of this one grid mark on the planet.

Still in shock that I was officially in Wonderland; I pulled into a tidy low tide beach nestled in between sheer cliff; adorned with barren windswept shrubs. It was here I debated if I should tell a soul between bites of granola bar. Should I keep it in the small circle of people I paddle with? Did I have enough of a look to really do it justice in a post?

And what lay further inside that cave?

I couldn't help remember a huge Iron treasure box now on display at the Winterton boat museum. Found in a cave halfway up a sheer cliff near the town only within the last generation. What could lay out here so far away from everything?

My mind rambled around planning my next visit to this place. Plastic valley boat, larger spotlight a must. I sat drinking coffee imagining pirate's sails on the horizon; a reality not that long ago along this shoreline.

The wind pitched as the fog banks began to roll in; adding to the mystic feel of this place. Like something out of a fiction plot; I seemed to be the lead character. Which left me wondering if the story was at a climax or merely a exposition as I surfed the small waves back to the take out.

As I paddled into my undisclosed port out of the rising wind and fog I thanked my lucky stars that somehow I was here.

Undisclosed.

Cripple rock; A fighter ace, and 4 dead men

2011-10-17T23:33:00.002-04:00

27 September 1942, flying Hurricane BAO 1364 (No.125 Squadron), reported:

"While flying over Conception Bay near Bauline, aircraft developed glycol leak, smoke appearing in cockpit. I climbed to 1,100 feet and attempted to make the airport but found that by this time the smoke had so filled the cockpit that I could not see forward so I rolled over and bailed out, landing in the water and after about 35 minutes I was picked up by fishermen from Bauline."

Guy E Mott

Mere sunsets ago in the big picture of time. Excitement and fear filled that day in 1942. A Canadian pilot bobbing in the North Atlantic. A reality. Fishermen rushing to their boats to rescue. Aside from the thousands of kilometers of coast line on the Avalon to explore lies thousands of years of moments. Bauline; nestled among towering mountains looming over the small protected Hr. I was welcomed by people at the wharf with great conversation in a strong preserved English accent. Greeted like a long lost neighbour; a memory of the Newfoundland I left years ago.

I passed the last saltbox house of this beautiful community; heading for Cripple cove along a unspoiled shoreline.

My day was near perfect. The last of a passing front rolled off into the Atlantic to reveal a warm summer like day. The smell of warm blackberry bushes; a roar of swell on the mountain's. Eagles soared ahead on the updrafts. Seagulls laughing. Chasing and fighting each other for a lone mussel.

My neck gasket warm and uncomfortable; relieved by the cool mist of rolling water inside the cave. Legs popped out over the sides of my kayak using small strokes to remain just out of reach of a small crashing swell.

Would be minute creeks transformed into crashing waterfalls. Tumbling to the sea; along whats known as " The Scrape". Just beyond I would find what I'd come to see.

Cripple rock.

1880

5 men from Northern bay took to the ice in search of seals. The ice pack moved further and further from shore as the men hunted. Nightfall came. The 5 men walked all night to stay warm. To remain alive. Come Saturday as the sun rose; three of the group (two Hogans and a Fahey) could go no further. A Mr March and Hogan made it to cripple rock and rested before making the final cross on slob ice to solid land. Mr March could go no further; and succumb to the cold. Somehow Mr Hogan beyond all odds made it to Cape St. Francis lighthouse. The SS Hercules was dispatched finding two of the bodies; which were returned across Conception bay to their port of call.

I stopped for supper just before nautical twilight. The cool fall night setting in; my stove glowing brightly reflecting off the gelcoat of my kayak. My shadow silouetted here onto a screen of piled boulders dancing as the the fames of my stove battled a light bay breeze at my feet. I couldn't help but imagine the stories that had unfolded in this little cove. Small snippets of the past never recorded.

My cadence lighting "fire on the water". Millions of stars in the sky seemed to reflect the bioluminescence.

Two ol' skippers came down to see how my day went; and to pick up our conversation where we had left off earlier. From atop they hill they had seen my glow sticks bobbing outside the harbour on my approach and wanted to hear what it was like outside the bay.

A moment.

Message in a bottle

2011-10-11T23:18:00.001-04:00

A evolution of man. A demonstration of wonder. The beginning of ocean science. A cry for help. Things that were far from my mind with no nexus to my day as I launched from Isligton Trinity bay. Instead my mind was occupied with shattering slate cliffs crumbing into points; making impromptu caverns and perfect chairs in its disorganised beauty.

Last year my long time paddling buddy and me had paddled from our hometown to Isligton as a short day trip. Having a fully booked weekend due to the holiday; I decided to make a short trip along the coast down to Hearts desire and Hearts delight before turkey supper.

I mused of the naming of such places. The names most likely contrived to appeal to new immigrants. New workers to come from the English shores to happy sounding names. Romance quickly flattened as new comers stepped off ships onto the rocky shores faced with hard work and a long winter and frequent Native and French attacks. Hearts Desire. Hearts Delight. Hearts Content.

I landed at Gannet point just outside Hearts Desire to have a coffee. There's been topographical map's of this area for hundreds of years. Yet here lies places so close to roads and dwellings that have rarely ever been visited by humans. Fossils walked past without an acknowledgement of their existence. Treasure left behind by pirates. Things written history fails to mention. Things in the walking distance of people; who never even see the beauty right under their noses.

I first gave the plastic trash a soccer kick as I walked along the pristine beach. What I had thought at first was just a torn brand wrapper stuffed inside; looked kind of odd and seemed to rattle around as it bounced over boulders. I picked it up to see a message wrapped in a ziplock bag inside. I couldn’t help but laugh. In a world where my message can get across the world in mere seconds; a message lies on a beach waiting to be read. It isn't a "Like" or "Share" so easily discarded in a scanning glimpse. It commands to be acknowledged. As my fingers reached inside to grab the corner of the message I wondered where it could be from. I was like a child on Christmas morning!

I opened the letter to find it originating from a place where I was once offered water and conversation. A place which government decided was too far outside of the new provinces major centers to allow to exist. Ivanhoe; a small cove on the Island of Irelands eye on the opposite side of trinity bay. Seeing a familiar place name was far from a disappointment. It brought back some great memories of a simpler time a mere 3 years back. Where three friends who grew up together came back together to enjoy the outdoors (where we lived as children) and explore; pushed by desire to do as we once did.

I slipped the message into my kayak still smiling. I had planned on going a little further down the coast but the beaches had provided me enough story for my mental monologue for the day. An electric excitement of ideas in my head. I took my time scouring the shore; walking through blackberry bushes peeking into the tangled wind stunted evergreens. Peeling back shrubs to see what was in hiding as I passed.

"Messages in a bottle" that carried people to this land have evolved to pleasure craft today. These would once bring word from the old country, bring war and death, bring much needed supplies at a critical time. Much like a message in a bottle; some disappeared off the face of the earth. My family come from a long line of schooner builders here. Bottle builders for the sea of humanity.

The wind increased and I wondered what the message in a bottle response would be as I paddled back to my car. I would surely be surprised by the commonality Mrs Smith and I share. So many things in our life intertwined; yet until today were perfect strangers. The sun buring through the clouds quickly descended into the evening sky; a perfect unfolding story.

Maybe we all need a message in a bottle to remind us just how much we all have in common with each other. Toss your message out. Say hi to the old gentleman on the bus or the lady behind you at the check out. Maybe your message will not get read; but maybe... just maybe someone out there will respond.

Thanks Marie!

Gale force winds = A day to practice

2011-10-07T23:18:00.000-04:00

Issued 03:30 PM NDT 06 October 2011

East Coast - north of Cape St. Francis

Winds

Tonight and Friday Gale warning in effect.

Wind southwest 35 knots veering to northwest 35 before morning then diminishing to 25 Friday morning.

Waves
Today Tonight and Friday Seas 3 to 5 metres building to 5 to 7 early this evening then subsiding to 3 to 5 Friday evening.

Walls of water obscuring the wind between it's wave length. We set out from St.Philips into the biggest crashing water I've yet the pleasure to paddle.

The wind and waves madefor some great surfing and made short return time back into the protected harbour.

And as clouds and waves rushed past; we headed back out into the bay.

A fantastic day of rolling and paddling in some great conditions.

As darkness fell we made another run before calling it a day.

Just a very quick post tonight folks. Ran out of time to post getting ready for a weekend away from the city to celebrate Thanksgiving. I've got a ton to be thankful for on this earth; and a weekend of kayaking and family is a perfect way to reflect on that.

I wish everyone around the world a happy Canadian Thanksgiving/ Jour de l'Action de grâce !!

I'll be back online next week with some more trip reports to share.

Maiden voyage along the carvings of water

2011-10-05T22:04:00.000-04:00

Easterly wind 25 knots. My usual paddling haunt of the southern shore along the exposed coast seemed out of the question. None the less I poked my head into Petty Hr to confirm the marine forecast..... unfortunately I verified it's validity. A quick map check (ask my wife I do carry all my maps in the car most days) I decided I would head to St Philips and use the high topography along the eastern side of Conception bay to tuck away from the eastern wind. Soon enough my new Legend slipped into the clement brine for her maiden voyage.

Having a good look at my map I decided to check out Big freshwater cove. A blue line extended over a cascading headland; my mind pictured it's beauty. The ferry's MV Flanders and MV Beaumont Hamel (named after WW1 Battle honours of the Royal Newfoundland Regiment) plow the same waters U-513 and U 518 did. U-boats that attacked and sunk ships at Scotia Pier killing many mariners during during WW2. The ferrys floating monuments of now distant wars; that left no family untouched in the small country of Newfoundland.

Small caves dot the rugged coastline. Cliff's plunge deep into awaiting sea. While most of these tiny crevasses would be inaccessible in less than perfect conditions; I had a great opportunity to explore and relax in the carvings of the sea.

What was once a outport family garden where root vegetables flourished; homes of downtown St. johns style and colour now dominate Wester point in Portugal cove. While voted the best coastal destination by National Geographic last year; the society cautioned that city growth was akin to a invasive species. The species has taken up shop here in Portugal cove; a outport just outside the city limits. Timing the crossings of the constant ferry traffic I made best speed across the mouth of Portugal cove harbour; and onto a coast where due to geography lies void of human signs.

Smooth granite polished by the roar and trickle of the seasons. Descending into 5 fathoms of deep cold North Atlantic. Displaying a bare stone path where forests cling in a communal effort against the elements on it's edges. Above sits Brock's head pond; a basin of cool fresh water. A docile tarn's power over the landscape is truly inspiring.

Civil twilight changed landmarks into hues of blue. I contemplated a night crossing to Bell Island on my return leg. However the slow swell rocking me into a near trance of relaxation all day and a empty stomach changed my thoughts. I decided to shoot for Goats cove; one of the few easy takeouts carved into the shoreline.

Landing just as darkness enshrouded the last signs of light; I brewed up some coffee and had a quick bite to eat. The fall chill crept into my bones as I sat; held at bay only by the warm infusion of supper. Snapping a few shots I was unsure if they would turnout.

My new yak carefully placed (as a new kayak usually is) on the cobblestone. The treble of a small stream and bass of a large sea slowly shifting into the rock was a soundtrack to end my day.

Pulling in to St Philips the smell of wood burning stoves danced in wisps across my noise in the cool fall night. A town silent as evening news filled tepid living rooms. A silence broken only by the cadence of my paddle and trickle of wake from my bow. The flashing green channel marker displayed the end of my travels; a great relaxing day on the water. Another day on the edge of North America. Another day to enjoy; and share.

(Track of today's journey)

Seaward Legend kayak

2011-10-03T20:49:00.000-04:00

A few months back I began to look for a new kayak and spent many conversations with people around this globe about what I should purchase next. Buying locally here in Newfoundland really restricts what you will get. Aside from Valley and some rec boats you won't find much. Joe O'Blenis opened his ear one night and threw out the idea of a Seaward. After much research and having owned two other Nigel Foster boats... I called Seaward. Less than 3 weeks later...

Here she is.

My Legend arrived in mint condition. Guzzler foot bilge and compass installed; and a star burst paint job for good measure.

Side view is properly described as "sexy".

A little narrower and a little longer than my Ellesmere. Two Canadian built kayaks are now in my line up.

There are a ton of little things I'm really liking with this kayak's design. Seaward has been unreal from handcrafting this beauty to getting it to me tout suite. Really happy with the kayak.

Tomorrow will be her sea trials!

Georges cove

2011-10-03T01:14:00.001-04:00

Escape from the city is very easy for me during my time off. A mere 50 minute drive puts me back into my outport community; where St.Johns couldn't seem further.

A mere 5 minute paddle from my front garden and your outside the reaches of houses, noise, and most humans in general. Aside from one of the by's you know heading out to fish you won't see anyone else.

My Grandfather was born here in the house next door to mine; now the oldest house left in the community. He hopped these rocks as a child and fished along these shores.

He told me stories as a child about the muskets his friends and him would find on Hopeall head (Mount eagle at one time). Which always stirred a sense of adventure as a child; and a thing to ponder about as a adult. there doesn't seem to be a written history of why muskets would be here. The dominating geographical feature makes sense to the military part of my brain. Things to think about as I roam Georges cove. Among the pristine beach cleaned by the tide; below Hurricane Igor's log's and garbage just above the reaches of the sea.

Currently I'm putting together a film for a competition; not getting too serious with it but just as a side project along my travels. Mr Pumpkin inspired me....

Filled with rocks and tied to my helmet I decided I would use my new found inspiration as a new angle to film.

Hooking my throwbag to my paddle float via their snaps; I automatically had a buoy and rope to attach My GoPro Pumpkin head and submerge him down 10 feet into the water.

Thoughts turning into action! I got some great results that I'm currently stitching together. I'll post once the final project is together.

Just after dark the munch herring came in and filled the cove. Thousands of fish in a frenzy.

The City lights of Hopeall in the distance. It's good to be home.

Cape Broyle and the convalescent couch

2011-09-29T22:40:00.000-04:00

I believe I found the end of the Internet. My living room end table laid strewn with Saline nasal mist, cough syrups, books, magazines, and various boxes that once held medicine. The couch back rest cushions laid on the floor; blankets piled to one side of the couch.

I caught up on the idiot box (television) news which repeats itself every 5 minutes. Shows that repeat what happened before the commerical break; as if viewers had a amnesia episode during the commerical break slowly drove me insane. So sick. If I stayed stoic on that couch one more day I would bludgeon myself to death with one of the 1000 Thomas trains. Which I find embedded in my back, armpit, and face awakening from lucid "all in one" medicine induced sleep.

After pouring over maps, confirming weather and radar data I figured Cape Broyle would make for a nice paddle. Within an hour drive of the city I was unloading on the wharf in quick order. The winds were gusting to 25 knots however the high hills surrounding this quaint beautiful fishing village abated much of the gust inside the inner harbour. Two old skippers came to have a chat as I offloaded my kayak. I cherish any moment to talk to locals. It's there sometimes you learn things you'll never find in the "Official guide book". Their Irish prosody danced on their tongues as we talked about what most men talk about here at home; Weather and fishing. Great guys.

First stop was into a small cove; perpendicular walls etched into grey and purple stone. Purple stone which at one time was a piece of what is today Morroco . Cliffs covered in mussels fed by the constant organic material from the torrant of fresh water.

Rainbows danced in it's mist and I was exausted. My mind wanted to get some good paddling in; yet my body was just disconnected from those thoughts. I took a little breather after a mere km paddle drifting in relaxation slowly drifting counterclockwise around this etched in cove. Alone with my thoughts and resonance of falling water.

I decided to cross the harbour to paddle in the shadow of the hills. The sun now sitting very low in the fall afternoon sky. I hoped some cool air would refresh me on this 9 degree day. The swell was minimal once exposed to the Atlantic. Small 1 and 2 m waves pushed slowly into the harbour; crashing slowly upon the rocks. I had hoped to come play around in the caves; I had hoped I would feel a little less under the weather as I went along. Stopping by Gallows cove I drank some juice and water....nothing. Coffee...nothing. As many a man; I was finished at Gallows cove. Luckily for me I would be able to paddle back from this execution site; maybe. Another juice box and reluctantly I was on my way.

As expected the wind had picked up and what was a light 15 knots felt more like 200 to my tired body. I crossed over the harbour again to follow the shoreline back to the take out. Kid's laughed and played on a vat cover in Admirals cove; waving and shouting "hello" as I passed. It was so great to see outport kids doing outport things. Having done the same thing growing up myself; it was real nice to just see kids being kids. No texting. No mall. Just a broken vat cover and some wind waves. It really made my day.

I pulled into a destroyed fishing room onto a slipway constructed of discarded pieces of our British gauge railway that once crossed the country and province of Newfoundland.

The abandoned "Room" held relics of another time in Newfoundland's not so distant past. Skeletons of boats hidden in scurvy grass; evergreens taking over where flakes once laid. The winch which pulled in boats at the end of the season; disintegrating into seasons ends that no longer require it.

A crib and shed which had given in to time and tide hangs on the high tide mark. Its slipway and bridge long ago destroyed. Death or a shift in the markets. Lack of a family member to continue; a family move to a new land to make a living. A cove of inadvertence. A biography. A chronicle of a cove.

A NAFEL 100lb box for salt cod fish sits still among the tools of the trade. Faded and worn.

The sun was setting as I explored; walking over old stone walls and concrete structures. During my convalescent couch time I'd lost over 20 minutes of sunlight from my normal day. I also knew solar noon was at 40 degrees today. In my conquest to "google" everything that crossed my mind in between coughing.......40 degree solar noon stuck in there for some reason...whatever that means. ;0)

While far from a spectacular paddle, it was a afternoon on the water none the less. My nostrils seemed to have cleared from the free "saline spray" of the North Atlantic. My lungs cleared somewhat with the mild exercise. At the take out I really wished I had a expedition crew to carry my kayak and me up the launch and remove my drysuit for me. Alas I was forced to do it myself; after much inner bickering.

Revisiting cape Broyle in the near future is a must. With a plan, some drive, and a clean bill of health.

Hope you enjoyed!

Sick

2011-09-25T21:06:00.001-04:00

Children are disease sponges. We send them off every morning with a smile as they soak up any influenza virus you haven't had the pleasure of meeting yet to bring home for a play date.

I have been sick (and whiny) all weekend.

I managed to get out today with a bottle of cloraseptic in my coat pocket (totally ignoring the fact I can't use it every 5 seconds as directed on the bottle) for a walk into a pond behind my house with my little one. Anyway I'm far too sick to attempt to write anything; and will let the pic's speak for themselves.

Home sweet home

Camping interupted

2011-09-23T01:08:00.000-04:00

A camping trip was contrived as I wrote the previous post. Of course a early morning packing of kit was in order. By noon I was paddling down Witless bay Brook into the beginnings of my trip; which truthfully had the same amount of planning as a car accident. A draconian wind from the west constantly increasing was a welcomed aide; propelling me out of witless bay to continue my open ended trip south.

As I checked my map along route I was a little concerned with the effect the surrounding land would have on this wind pushing off the shore. Few things inimitate me more than the thought of being pushed out into a restless sea in a wind stronger than my paddle stroke.
.

Sizing up my map I decided I would round Breaking point and onto Witless point; only if this wind abated or I seen a way to get through the surf zone. The breaking 2-3m waves were looking very predictable; yet between Green island and breaking point was all rolling and breaking waves combined with a off shore wind. I took cover behind some shoals to reconnitre if a way around would be safe or not.

Sizing up the scene; the waves sets remained the same after 5 minutes of watching. I decided there was a good path through the breakers where a shoal dichotomized the waves. Off I went. As I paddled through the relativly small breaking surf edging towards the shoals my kayak suddenly nosed into a wall of roaring water..and it was cresting down on me. I braced myself into the 5m bohemioth and was flipped stem to stern; then tossed strait up into the air.Mid air I caught my breath as the nose dove back into the water. Upon landing I managed to roll up. My skirt had imploded under the pressure of the wave; and another huge wave spun me upside down in the roaring white mist. I became seperated from my kayak and was sucked out on the outgoing surf. I grabbed my kayak just as another monster picked me up and tossed me forward. This unforseen set of three subsided and the waves crashing were much smaller. I decided that flipping the kayak right side up would end up filling the kayak full of water in the breaking waves. Which would make her too heavy to lift onto shore if I didnt have time to empty it between the crushing rollers. A damaged kayak was not a option. A short swim using the surf pushing my kayak ahead of me got me back behind the shoals; still in white water but manageable.

I strattled the kayak with my legs dangling in the water and had a drink of water and a good laugh. After washing the copous amounts of snot off my face, I dumped out my kayak and headed back to Breaking beach.. The sea had given this solo paddler a "time out".

Out here solo your responsiable for one person; and only answer to him as well. You also decide if your ever gonna tell anyone about your indescretions. I made the short paddle back to breaking beach to check over my body and most importantly my kayak. As a pair my kayak came out on top as my ribs and back hurt quite a bit. Yet here I was dead tired, coughing up seawater and smiling from ear to ear. I lifted my fully loaded kayak onto my shoulder and got above the high tide mark. I took off my drysuit; lying on the warm beach rocks coughing up what salt water remained in my lungs.

A quick moving system which must have been pushing the wind ahead of it ripped through shortly after I landed on the shore. I fired up my stove and cooked up a quick meal. So exausted. The adrenaline dump flattened the world that was moments before vibrant and exciting. The dump felt equally as nice.

As this front pushed through I had plenty of time for introspection about what had happened. Moments to disect what went wrong and what went well. The unexpected had happened; a rogue set of 3 waves from a differnt direction than expected. I had reconntred the area for a good 5 minutes before deciding if it was a go or no go. Should I have stopped right there as I was paddling solo? Should having to make a decision on safety dictate that it would be an automatic "no go" solo? Many questions and many differnt angles crossed my coincience as I ate wild cranberries along the beach.

I came to the conclusion that....IT WAS A FREAKIN BLAST!!! And I wouldnt change anything. Sure I ended up swimming in a surf zone; and sure my ribs hurt even though I didnt recall hitting them. The feeling of self accomplishment felt great; one of the main reasons I paddle solo most of the time. My roll proved to be bomb proof in that white water with no skirt. Alas the wave was ripping me out weither I liked it or not.
I had the tools and used them to get myself out of the situation. It was a great learning experience for me. Regardless of how prepared we are or how certain we become; the unexpected still lies in waiting somedays. And today the unexpected kicked my butt!

The unexpected had changed my trip plans. However it had landed me here on this beach for a very relaxing day. The wind didnt seem like it was gonna coorporate to tolerate paddling around the point again. I took a hike though the woods to pass some time. The sun directed orange light through the forest as it hugged the western horision. I decided as I strolled along I would cancel my camping plan and attempt to pull off a trip next week. I dont like camping so close to home.

Packed up after a great day of relaxation and a little exilleration. The best part of this whole situation? I had been humbled by the sea.

“A person can achieve everything by being simple and humble.”-rig veda

Indiana Jones stars in: Witless bay and the Breaking point.

2011-09-20T21:04:00.004-04:00

A summer furlough was not on the books this year during the usual July-Aug time frame. However as the cool air filled my lungs as I paddle out into the evening air; this fall time off work seemed like a great idea.

While the waves were tiny swell coming in from the Atlantic; the low tide made for some great "rock gardening". Nothing too strenuous; just a bit of fun playing about along the shore of Witless bay.

I was very surprised to not find any large caves as is the norm along this rugged coast. Aside from one nice gate to paddle through the coast had not given in to the constant erosion.

As I rounded breaking point I was a little disappointed to find only a few rolling waves; and not much happening out to sea. A real nice calm day. Watching the paths through the rocks I practiced some boat control among the white capped swell and rock.

Gull island in the distance; I stopped for a short break on breaking beach. It's a awesome camping place aside from the east coast trail which delivers people to it's shore via a nice groomed path.Today I was lucky to have it to myself.

A clear fresh water brook babbles over the polished beach rocks into the sea; making for easy resupply of water while in camp. Summer`s gifts made the cool air smell sweet.

Much like my ancestors; mollusk clinging to a rock trying their best to survive.

As the sun set behind the evergreens and hills of the point; I suddenly remembered an obligation to be somewhere shortly after dark. Whatever. Drank another coffee watching the steam dance in my cup.

I played cat and mouse with some sandpipers and plovers on the way home. Beautiful little animals and very cagey to get close to. And then I seen it. A moose? The large brown creature cracked through the bushes above.

Then Indiana Jones stumbled; caught themselves and appeared with two huskies. At first I wasn't going to mention this on my blog..but. During moose season dressing as Indiana Jones in the woods around Newfoundland is a really dumb thing to do. And while it may be a new fall trend in St.Johns to dress as Indiana Jones (Sping fashion here was dressing as you were attempting to summit Everest while walking up New Gower Street) wearing brown crashing through the woods during moose hunting season is not only dumb..... it's plain stupid. Having already found the "temple of doom" or whatever she was looking for; she safely made it back to her SUV and left. While I know hunters will not take the shot until certain; add 1 really stupid hunter and Darwinisms occurs. I always meet interesting characters along my journeys...but not one quite this stupid.

A wonderful day full of rock gardens beautiful beaches and 1 really really dumb person.

***Authors note: I just decided about 5 minutes ago that I'm heading out for a camping trip tomorrow. No real plans yet...I'll fill you all in when I get back!!***

Outer cove Newfoundland

2011-09-15T22:39:00.001-04:00

Outercove circa 1954

They came from Kilkenny, Waterford, Wexford and Cork. looking for a new start, adventure, running from the past, or in desperate need to have something in this world. The landed in Outer cove to excellent fishing rooms and good land to farm.

Stages and dory's are replaced with a older gentleman with binoculars and a massive DSLR birding along the shore. High end SUV's sit where horses once stood to bring the fishermen back to their houses. City kids joke and play where once women and children worked like dogs to dry the catch.

I play among outstretched fingers clawing at granite walls.

Where treachery and beauty meet.

I climb rock walls over white capped waves.

(any good waves I rode required two hands on the paddle and not on the camera!)

I eat where many have felt the pangs of hunger. My stove I have on loan to trial; boils supper. It blows out over and over. I've decided that while the pot/pressure cooker is awesome the stove is not one I would use kayaking. The reactor from MSR gets a thumbs down from me. The pot however would go great with my old trusty Coleman one burner. Not to mention using these fuel canisters is just not my style.

I push myself from Outercove exhausted and full of confidence after playing in some great surf.

Quidi Vidi

2011-09-14T21:30:00.000-04:00

"He who makes a beast out of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man." Dr Samuel Johnson

Pulling into the "quaint" little town of Quidi Vidi on the outskirts of the city was a welcomed reprieve.

My stern let go of the shoreline and civilisation. Animals have smelt the fall air over the past few days; and so have I. The evenings shortening and becoming cool. I paddle off.

The slight fragrance of fish and kelp danced along the warm streams of air; rolling off the rock warmed by the midday sun. The coolness moves in slow blocks pushing the warm wisps of day higher into the air as evening arrives.

Perfect mountains and coves still being carved by time just outside the protected harbour.

And man's contributions crumbling and damaging.

Choppy 1m wind waves crashed and rebounded. Cape Spear North Americas most eastern point flashed it's beacon as it has since 1839. The coolness dominates here. Mist from the crushing swell freckled my face. I closed my eyes and enjoy.

Spectacular colours littered the face of the headland. An indirect worship of the sea. It's ability to bridge mourning families to their lost loved ones. A homage. A hate.

The old world feel is still there among the million dollar boats and fishing stages on cribs. Quidi Vidi as beautiful as it's name.

Flowers to those who cease to live, the coolness of fall moving in. I'm glad to had come for even such a short paddle after such a long days work. Our after work paddles are ones to hold dear to our hearts as another season begins to pass.

Enjoy the light and enjoy life.

Tropical storm Katia

2011-09-10T22:21:00.001-04:00

"The sea does not reward those who are too anxious, too greedy, or too impatient. One should lie empty, open, choiceless as a beach - waiting for a gift from the sea."

Anne Morrow Lindbergh

Katia skirted the Avalon causing some nice waves and wind; and hopefully some great swell for the next few days. I headed off to St Philips after pouring over my maps and weather forecasts to try and find a doable trip today. The plan was to paddle from St. Philips to Bauline along the coastline. The waves didn't look too bad 2-3 meter with a couple 4m further out once I landed at the put in. Sean dropped in for a short chat on his way to the store. Nice thing about the kayaking community here is there is always someone droppin in fer a chat or someone to paddle with. Not to mention were both basically celebrities with our kayaking sites. ;o)

After paddling around I decided against paddling down the coast and played around in the cove.

Here's my Video of today's fun!

Anywho I'm heading out to escape cellphone coverage,Internet and television with the family tomorrow to celebrate my birthday. NE wind all day today should make for some great fun in trinity bay !!

Hope you enjoy the video! Leave a comment down below!

Labour day weekend

2011-09-08T17:28:00.000-04:00

Labour day weekend seems to finally put a nail in the "wilderness lovers" season. The coolers with wheels, Coghlan products and 8 foot campfires now have subsided. They migrate back into the suburbs to trim hedges and trying to finance a larger car /deck/stonework driveway than their neighbours. Leaving it to us again to enjoy without disturbance until May 24th.

My original plans were to kayak between a couple communities in Placentia bay however once I got out to my Hopeall home late Friday night to see a harbour filled with speedboats and 3 kayaks...I made up my mind that I was gonna forgo this weekends trip.
I spent the weekend mostly exploring one little cove in my community. A perfect place to practice without every passing car stopping to check you out. Quiet and peaceful. I even had the privilege of seeing 20 porpoise's doing back flips and playing a couple hundred meters away. (video didnt turn out too good. Sorry!!)

As Bloggers we normally talk about thinks that interest us or of things we know or perceive to know. Focusing on the little thingsin this little cove was a definite wake up call to just how many small things I have no clue about out here. And I invite you the readers to share some information if you have it.

Unknown plant

Unknown snail species.

Either way it was a great relaxing weekend with my boys and wife.

In the most beautiful place in the world.

Little video of a time lapse in a neat little cove. Some rolling and music thrown in for fun.

I'm finally getting some time off starting Sept 18th which means a ton of solo paddling with the possability of a open ended trip somewhere. I just recieved every 1:50000 map of the avalon last week and a few extras I'm giving to a buddy of mine that I paddle with.

Tomorrow I am getting back on the water regardless. It's hard to believe another week has passed and I'm still getting to this blog entry. It's been a busy few days.

landed upon a fine litle Iland 1612

2011-08-28T21:18:00.000-04:00

October 23th

"In the morninge the wind at southwest faire sune shining all the daie untill night. The night the wind at weste verie faire weather."

"This daye in the morninge we went at the mouth of Mountte Eagell Baie and landed upon a fine litle Iland which [has] excellent good ground and grasse upon it and ther we gathered store of scurvy grasse. Allso ... we found that ther had ben great store of birdes had haunted."

October 24

"In the morninge the wind at south east verie faire sune shininge weather untill night and calme."

"This morninge we departed out of Mountte Eagell Baye coastinge towards the bottom of Trinitie Baye ...."

Hopeall Trinity bay once known as Mount Eagle Bay is my birthplace and true home. This weekend I slid my kayak into the bay in front of my land and paddled to the "fine litle iland." "Mount eagle" now known as Hopeall head can be seen in the distance in the picture above. It is still thankfully home to many bald eagles...and me.

“Occurrents in Newfoundland”

Excerpts from Henry Crout’s Weather Diary Kept at
Cupers Cove, Newfoundland from September 1, 1612 to May 13, 1613
Aboard the Endeavor

Gull Island Witless bay eco reserve

2011-08-26T15:14:00.000-04:00

The hardwood floor was cool on my face. Occasionally being stepped on by a 45 lb 5 year old and 22 lb 2 year old, crawled on, kissed; and anything else my wife directed them to do aside from their usual picky demeanour's. I was exhausted. All week I've had no energy to do anything outside the realm of work. Eating supper was even a chore. Lying there on the floor in what was a failed attempt to play dinkies with my youngest; I just wanted to go to bed.

Getting continuous kisses on my head then a curious 2 yr old found my freshly grown in hair on my bald head felt weird on his tongue. Thus provoking him to lick it. My 5 yr old began running and trying to jump the whole length of my body. It was only a matter of time before I received broken ribs and had a soaked head...I forced myself to my feet.

I was off.

Aerosmith "Sweet emotion" came on the radio as I drove down the southern shore highway. Not a car on the road and driving a little too fast under the spell of music; I arrived at witless bay.

The paddle out to Gull island is a direct 7km and I had picked a pretty awesome day. Light winds at 15 knot's and aside from a nice rolling swell it was as calm as it gets out here. The islands are home to over 260 000 pairs of Atlantic puffins our provincial bird. Kittiwakes, storm petrels, Turr's, and Sterins nested among the rocks here as well in the Eco reserve founded back in the 1960's. Gull island appeared to shimmer in the distance ; alive with life.

I've never seen so many puffins in one place. I tried to avoid them and let them do their thing; yet at some point's you just had to pick "the path of least puffins" and approach slowly.

The sound of swells crushing into the island and the sky alive with the sound of kittiwakes. I approached "long gulch" with the hope of not disturbing the nesting animals along the cliffs. Motor boats are restricted to 50M off shore; yet the only regulations on kayakers is not to land on the island. Still keep in mind what your presence is doing to the animals and back off if required.

Then I seen it. Cave number 1!! There is something about caves that I just enjoy a little too much. I sat outside and watched for a few minutes to see how the swell interacted inside. Deeming it fairly safe I approached with caution into it. I was excited to see that this cave had an entrance and exit opening into a inner chamber; and quickly paddled out to enter from the other side.

As I paddled into the darker side I could feel the over pressurisation as the swell roared in the back of the cave. I think I may have to come back here when the swell is up; as I believe it may produce some awesome kick back as the cave in Trinity bay did last year.

A young kittiwakes unable to fly swam around me without care. He would most likely meet the faith of the other dead floating seabirds who made an unfortunate move; hurling them off their perilous ledge dwellings into the Atlantic. In all I counted 37 young dead kittiwakes along the shore of the island throughout the day.

The colours of the rocks here are truly something else. Described as simply "red" or "green" just does not do it justice. Words alone couldn't.

"Long point cove" had a series of small caves that were not worth entering. A large Squid Squaw threw me for a loop as to what the fuck it was. Seeing a skin type colour from afar, I half expected to find a bloated body. And of course was happy to find a bloated medusa. Being a child I poked it with my paddle.

As I rounded long point the roar of a small swell, cool mist, and literally thousands of puffins. Then I seen it. The mother on all caves!

This thing was really amazing. It extended a good 75 meters in and to date is the largest I have paddled in. As I entered the cave I was attacked by a saddle back seagull; thankfully he only made one smack at my head. More dead kittiwakes littered the water.

I practiced some rolls out on the open side of the island where some kickback was making the water a little interesting. The sun now low in the sky was non existent as I paddled along.

Crashing swell producing frigorific mist cool enough for me to see my breath. As I rounded The Saddle I was treated to an awesome sunset.

Which increased in beauty along the paddle

Until finally darkness overran me like a quickly approaching storm.

The 237th day of 2011 was complete. What a great day it had been. In a Eco reserve alone. Threading lightly, thinking wildly, and in awe beyond words.

2011-08-21T22:20:00.001-04:00

Today was a great day to be alive. After attempt 3 we finally arrived to the takeout with all my kayak gear. Our attempts to organise allowed too many hands into my kayak kit; putting paddles behind coats and PFD hung up on a hanger. Either way it was a great respite with my oldest as mom ran back the first time. Needless to say I was very angry loading up my kayak after the paddles were AWOL. Headed home for lunch before a successful launch on attempt 3. .

I paddled out of the harbour with "God guard thee Newfoundland" being sung from tops of boats and in an adjacent field. Petty hr days had begun and it was great to hear the national anthem being sung again. It's been a while since I had.

I was still singing the third round of the anthem as I turned into 22knot wind and 2-3m swells. I was surprised to see fishing boats loaded with people pulling up on my port and starboard side; which quickly awoke me from my slumber. We took pictures of each other between the swells. The "A.M Star" passed by and I could hear a gentleman exclaim "look at that half fucked fool; must wanna go for a swim." I waved; they waved back. I smiled to myself....he had no idea...

The Ellesmere loaded full felt really good in the water. She felt stable, yet turned on a dime. I had been finding my hips doing a little extra work when I was taking pictures. A bit of ballast seems to have corrected the annoyance.

Bus sized swells pushed into the shore in rolling waves. Sometimes I avoided them..

Sometimes I went for it.

Seals and Sea otters played in the surf; keeping their distance from my ancient hunting craft.

Making it to Motion head clouds had been forming that I really didn't like the looks of. A few cumulonimbus were climbing into anvil shapes; a good sign to get off the water.

While the swells at motion head was huge; the wind outside was increasing. My planned trip to Bay bulls would have to wait. Battling a already heavy headwind with a front approaching was sign enough that this was my limit of exploitation today.

Having too much energy left, I explored Motion bay. Small 1m swell made for fun rock hopping. Hikers on the east coast trail stopped to watch me play in the surf.

Heading back along the shore towards petty hr poking into caves along the way.

Paintings of life decorated the walls inside.

Sheltered coves are minimal here along this coast. I debated staying for supper; however my new BBQ was calling me at home. Besides...I have to save my meal packets for my upcoming long weekend trip....yet to be determined.

One

The blurred line of breath and swell. Veil between blood and ocean. Brushes of capacious blue lines across the easel; colour of veins. Skin the shade of shoreline; hair windswept evergreen, bending to the momentum of life. Salt stained lips akin shorelines. Angry sweep`s. Saving grace. A neutral observer . A sunset. Night has spoken. We close our eyes to the shimmering lights. We have taken life and we have given it. Unknown ; our purpose or direction. It concern us none. I am the shadow of the sea.

Home port

2011-08-20T23:31:00.000-04:00

A day, a week, a month. It's fleetness seems to increase by the second here in Nfld. There never seems enough time to complete the multitude of paddles I wanna do. I found myself again "dreaming" my life away; having a total lack of sentience. I grabbed my paddle and put "expenditure contracting 101 book of bullshit" aside; time to grasp reality again.
I love Newfoundland and "my" people. Newfoundlanders are kind to a fault; shirt of their back kind. However.... man.... can they complain about anything and everything!! Weather is usually top of the list around here. We don't have 50 degree heatwaves, wildfires ,tornado's or massive flooding. We have cool weather with rain. Yet the colourful complaints about the weather fly into my ears every step of my day.

"Mom's 87 and she said this is the worst summer she ever saw"

"Newfoundland is the only place you can buy SPF 1 sunscreen"

"Tis is some spring were havin iddinit?"

"I'm gonna murder the weather man if 'e calls for rain tis weekend"

Even on a official station emails!! The base chief commented on a "glowing object" in the sky and gave forces member the afternoon off to go find out what the object was.

If Newfoundlanders weren't so colourful and nice; it would be depressing to listen to all the negativity!
Either way again I found myself alone on the North Atlantic on a beautiful cool rainy day.

Petty Hr has become my "home port" of sorts since I moved here. Theres never any traffic launching there...even during the food fishery. The fishing boats lining the wharfs are great to see as I paddle to the open Ocean. Reminds me of outport Nfld; and a different way of life in the not too long ago past.

....even old Newfoundland politics exist. And no doubt discussions of who is best suited for the post lingers among the smell of beer, tobaccco, saltwater and twine. Men sitting on mooring ropes and grapelins in twine lofts that dot the shoreline.

The swell was as minimal as it gets out here. Anywhere from 1-2 m with a few peaking and breaking along the shoreline, and over reef's close to shore. The fog held it's distance a km off shore while it caressed the heights of ___- hill with it's fingers.

Small coves carved out from uninterrupted pounding of this ocean made for little respites along the short paddle. I stuck close to shore to ride the larger of the waves and take in the scenery; rock hopping when I could.

A short paddle but a paddle none the less. Back into home port at civil twilight. So many things feel so right here.

I was never meant to live anywhere else.....and doubt I ever will again.

****AUTHORS NOTE****

I'm currently packing for next weekend and a longer paddle for tomorrow. Here's a panoramic I shot at the cape today. Hope you enjoy!

Avondale anniversary

2011-08-16T20:55:00.001-04:00

Sunday being my 7th wedding anniversary; we again took to the water of a good paddle. I had attempted to buy her a good drysuit at the outfitters in St.Johns, but they didn't have anything we wanted. Sans le drysuit I decided Conception Hr to Avondale would be a great protected paddle where she could risk being without her drysuit

The wind's light and the sky blue we couldn't have asked for a nicer day for a relaxing paddle. I tried to "coach" my wife's forward stroke without becoming a dick. I wanted her to enjoy the paddle and not worry too much about. This was my wife's first attempt in the Valley Avocet and she really liked the feel of it. Edging to turn and practicing ruddering and stern drawls; she really impressed me.

We had decided we would go check out the old copper mine in Avondale; a short 4 km from conception hr. Large bald eagles and sea otters made brief appearances.

Being 20 degree's out we landed after 4km overheated from being overdressed. We stripped down to bare "civilised" essentials and strolled across the beach enjoying some ice cold bottles of coke. Picking uprocks and shells my wife came across one metallic rock which is something I've never seen before. If someone can help me out please drop me a line. A great anniversary gift none the less.

We tucked into the treeline passing aside an old wooden fence once claiming property rights to a beautiful little waterfall under the shade of large birch. No matter who has paper to claim this land it always goes back to it's wild state. Like a slow bulldozer; nature waits at your created boundaries of grass and fence lines. Trimming it back, weeding the lawn, and finally getting too old to carry out the necessary battle...it slips back under the forward push of nature or begins a new battle against a new "land owners".

Megan seemed hesitant on finally making our trek into the mine shaft. She took 30 minutes to walk back up the beach and messed with things in her kayak. My prodding of What was wrong was met with a calm defiant "Oh....nothing hunny". Even though she knows my sick ability to read people.

Soon enough a scared Megan holding my hand a little too tight was descending below the Earth in a mine hand dug in the 1880's. The darkness ate up our lights quickly as we crossed into a bend which blocked the small beam of light from the mines entrance.The cool wet air make our breath visiable. Every step echoed down and back the cavern. Echoing like high heels of a praying widow walking out of an old empty church . Plop's of surface water dripping into the flooded portions of the floor.

Numbers lined the walls denoting yards in. The ever increasing grip on my hand was only abated as I took pictures; which thentransferred a death grip to my shirt. I began videotaping our anniversary celebration... which I vowed I never will disclose to the public......

She made it to the 90 yard mark before her fear whispered a " ok lets turn around here". I don't let people quit. People who quit are facing a fear. Being defeated by feelings AND not by a situation is the worse thing a person can allow to happen to themselves. Knowing the situation was for her to put one foot in front of the other, the situation was an easy one. She would not fail.

At the 115 yard mark the cave stopped. A broken beer bottle lay on the stone floor. She stood scared to death. I turned off my headlamp to reveal the sheer darkness. Not a ounce of light. She didn't like that
much. However the walk back out she seemed more relaxed and I had hoped I had shown her what he had with our lights, and that we would be ok even without it.

Once she seen the first shimmer of light off in the distance, a pixel of white in a black world; she relaxed.

As we walked the last 5 feet we felt the warm summer air and squinted as we came out onto the surface.

She finally verbally admitted just how scared she was. She also mused that she thinks she may be claustrophobic. Her chest was tight, cold sweats and full of panic. She hadn't felt like that since she was hauled out of her marine firefighter training in a panic; while in her full fire suit and oxygen mask. She admitted how she relaxed once she had seen the glow of the outside ahead. I suggested we make the cave decent a annual tradition she laughed in a way to say "no fucking way". She had made it. She faced fear and conquered the situation. We relaxed on the beach for a half hour before taking back to the water.

In the past 7 years she's conquered 3 postings to new provinces, me away for 210 days out of a year, me deployed as a combat soldier to Afghanistan while she sat home for 9 months of pregnancy alone. Battled meningitis and won, and been a great mother, wife , and friend through out it all.

And not a bad kayaking partner.

And theres something about a girl in a kayak.....

Old Petty Hr Road

2011-08-11T21:52:00.000-04:00

I still feel the need to run. A primitive desire to run until I become euphoric. Knowing I can't right now due to injury really sucks for the lack of a better word. A trail near my house beckoned to me....here's the results:

A few of the stills in case someone wants a new desktop wallpaper.

Someone backed into my car at a stoplight today, so my paddle was scrapped. Gotta make up for lost time this weekend. My car can be replaced....my time cannot!!

A day of learning

2011-08-07T21:14:00.001-04:00

Today was a day of learning for me. As soon as my eyes opened 06h30 I realised that the fabled "early morning" does indeed exist on weekend.

My next lesson arrived when I pulled into Healey lake. A couple guys from KNL had got together to help out with the St.Johns Triathlon; acting as safety boats for the swim portion. Feeling the need to break life long habits such as "Never volunteer"; I found myself pulling a large buoy across the pond at 07h00.

What seemed like an easy task to my slowly awaking mind turned into the hardest paddle I've ever done in my life! This 6 foot para sail I was trying to drag into 50km/hr winds decided I was heading down the pond or remaining stationary! The SAR Rovers came by in RHIB and towed the stubborn thing up the lake.

Anchored in we awaited the 127 swimmers about to hit the water. I stuck with the lead crew as I had the fastest hull for heading into the wind. Once the lead 3-4 guys were finished much ahead of everyone else I headed back to the main pack. One competitor felt dizzy so I stuck beside him to the finish. Something else to watch guys and girls swim against this wind and waves today. Don't look like much from the kayak but I'm certain it looked huge from the swimmers vantage point.

heading back out the final few competitors in the second heat were at the half way mark. People were really digging deep to get the last leg into the wind completed. Bruce at one point had 3 swimmers on board. Another swimmer came up beside me and yanked on my boat putting me into a quick brace to stay up right. This lady really put some inspiration into my day. I have to admit the guy who finished 40 minutes before everyone else was impressive. The amount of training something like this takes really has to be recognised. However watching this young woman really dig deep....was very impressive to me today. I followed her right to the point where she could stand offering encouragement. Seeing her running up the beach was fucking great to see.

The competitors headed off to run and bike we done some rolls and such before packing up and chatting for a good 20 minutes. Some organisers thanked us profusely as we exited the water and discussed things like organising a kayak race and how they really wished they could have done something to recognise us for helping out. Really a thanks is more than I ever expect. We had a good time and helped out; win win.

The next thing I learned is my inability to stay off water. The wind had abated somewhat after supper; and although I still had to leave Trinity bay to head home to Kilbride I couldn't resist a quick trip out.

The wind going out the 3 km wasn't half bad; and the waves were still big enough to have a little fun in.

Paddling back in my home port is beyond words.

The last thing I learned today is my youngest seems to be attracted to the sea as much as I am. He literally would stand still for 2 minutes and stare at the water with a smile on his face.

We're happy guys.

Roll gone bad

2011-08-04T22:04:00.000-04:00

Thursdays a bunch of guys from the club get together at Portugal cove for a evening of general messing about in kayaks. I paddle out to meet them and blow a roll. First one in a very long time. Embarrassed I headed back and got my trusty wing paddle that I've grown to love and paddled off from the group to (army phrase: un-fuck) myself. Suddenly no issue. Failing a roll with one paddle is a sign of something in my roll gone wrong, and not the paddle.
the first time you meet a bunch of good kayakers....you blow a roll in flat calm conditions......

Rolled 18 more times tried to mess myself up and no issue.

Embarrassing.

None the less I'm off for a nice long paddle somewhere tomorrow....I should open a map here before bed.

Great to get a dedicated day for practicing each week none the less and met a few great guys.