A Short Trip with a Yankee Cruiser [43]

By Peter Sanders

As a native of the North Eastern part of the US, reading NSW Sea Kayaker provides an opportunity to learn different techniques (and humour) from another skilled group of kayakers.

Some values and experiences are the same, others due to locale are quite different. Yes, there are crazy people here that paddle in the snow and ice, but would think twice about it if there were sharks, nasty jellyfish, crocs or any other vicious or deadly creatures in the water!

If I can digress for a moment – there are many Clubs in the New York City metropolitan and surrounding areas. I am a member of several, but none have the depth, standards or opportunities offered by the NSWSKC. This particular trip described below is offered as an intermediate tour from Atlantic Kayak Tours. I have always thought it better to paddle with known, educated paddlers when a demanding trip is expected than with a Club where the experience levels are unknown. Please understand I am not a snob – just concerned with my own safety.

For most Clubs in the US, plastic sea kayaks are the majority: Perception, Necky, and Sealution boats are popular. Fibreglass denotes a larger wallet or years of experience (you’d be surprised how many people are the former rather than the latter).

Wooden kayaks are a rarity, most are owned by the occasional paddler (with an even bigger wallet than fibreglass), but not necessarily by the experienced kayaker. Please keep in mind this is an observation not an opinion or fact. I apologise for the backtracking and will continue.

Paddling the Connecticut shore of the Long Island Sound is beautiful and demanding. Bluff Point is a state park and coastal reserve. Launchings are restricted to small craft.

Our trip goal was to cross the channel to West Harbour of Fisher’s Island – there is a Race to be concerned with, it can travel about 5 to 6 knots and the waters can get difficult.

Paddlers were screened for this Bluff Point day trip – I’ve known many of the people for years. Most paddle the Romany 16, there is one Romany 18, two Valley Anus Acuta’s, one Necky (but he has a Romany on order) and one P&H Sirius (myself). None of us have rudders, we use either skegs or nothing at all. We have found that in rescues, one can lose a finger on rudder cables.

Unfortunately, the morning weather report had increasing winds forecasted from 15 to 20 knots gusting to 25 or so from the northwest. The plan was to paddle to the south east from the Connecticut shore to Fisher’s Island and return after lunch. The trip itself was fine, about 5 or so miles out, have lunch and return by late afternoon. However, with the wind and the Race, a group meeting was held and the trip changed to exploring the coast, surfing and rolling for the day.

The coast of Connecticut is lined with beaches with little vegetation, marshes with green trees or rock gardens with huge boulders. When the land is not a state preserve, the coast is lined with huge mansions and numerous marinas – the Connecticut and Massachusetts areas have been sailing and whaling towns since the 1600’s.

When crossing coves and no longer protected by the shore, the full force of the wind forced some bracing, but more hard paddling into the wind than anything – I must admit the group may have been correct in cancelling the Fisher’s Island crossing. After 3 hours we decided it was time for lunch.

Surf landing is always a big thrill. Berating the capsizing victims while saving them is normal. I was given some assistance with my landing with the kind instruction, “Brace you idiot!” when a rogue wave hit. My landing was met with a compliment or two…

After lunch, our return trip with the wind was faster then expected. This allowed for some game playing – surfing in, bracing and then paddling out without landing. When this grew tiring we continued for a bit until a new game, ‘Killer Kayak’, was created.

The object being to get directly behind a friend, paddle hard there-by bringing the bow of your kayak up onto your friend’s stern. If successful, the kayak on the bottom is forced sideways and capsizes.

Escape is achieved by side slip, draw on the move, or a severe low brace turn. My personal preference is to roll over, count to 10, and roll up followed by a reverse sweep. This provides excellent position for visual and verbal comments at my protagonist.

All done with fun in mind – any one not wishing to play stays out. This may go on until someone capsizes or we just grow tired.

Towards the end of the day, when the water was at its warmest, we practiced different rolls – the instructional part of our trip, where each of us learns from the other. We spent a half hour or so before landing.

Woy Woy Weekenders [43]

by Anthony Gates

We have recently established a small team of paddlers on the Central Coast, acting as a local arm of the Club. We initially started out by meeting on Wednesday nights for a paddle out of Woy Woy to wherever the mood takes us.

Generally we head out for a couple of hours on Brisbane Water with a short stop to boil the billy somewhere along the way. Those of you who are on the Club’s e-mail list are probably already aware of our outings as they have been advertised on the list each week.

Last Saturday we decided to spread our wings a little and six of us set out from Patonga for a leisurely stroll up the Hawkesbury River. Our initial plan was to do some exploring up Patonga Creek but being a fairly impromptu event, we had the tides wrong and therefore decided on a trip over to Refuge Bay.

We figured it to be about a 14 km round trip and as the photos show the conditions were great. We pulled in for lunch and a bit of a wander around before loading up for the return journey. Our American visitor, Jose, looked a bit weary on the way back as his paddling experience was limited but all in all a nice easy day on the water was had by all.

We would welcome anyone from the Club who would like to attend our ‘Woy Woy Wednesday’ paddles. We meet at the public wharf at Woy Woy at 7 pm for a 7:15 departure. We also have a few other ideas in the mill. In particular a weekend trip from my place at Woy Woy (waterfront living has its advantages) to Putty beach on 2-3 September and another at Port Stephens on 14-15 October.

If you are heading up our way anytime for a paddle, make sure you drop Anthony Gates a line on (02) 9923 5059 BH, (02) 4341 9096 AH.

Web Site Reviews [43]

The Great Cardboard Boat Regatta

The website of the original cardboard boating event, this is a premier event in America attracting 1,500 participants each year. Participants must create a vessel from cardboard that will survive several water trips.

Perhaps an ideal event for the plywood boat fanatics to test their designs and skills on…

Bergen University Kayak Club

Situated on the west coast of Norway, this club undertakes sea and whitewater kayaking trips.

Great pictures of the COLD coastline and kayaking through ice make for worthwhile viewing. I just wish I could read Norwegian…

Doug’s Boat Page

A wooden boat builder, Doug has created this website as a resource to wooden kayak building.

Free plans, links to boat design software, good photos of finished products, interesting links and a good list of resources make this a great site for anyone thinking about or already building a kayak.

Training Notes [43]

By David Winkworth

National Park Fees

The bastards! The rotten bastards!

I’m referring to that great bureaucracy, the National Parks and Wildlife Service, which has just announced that $6.00 entry fees for vehicles will be slapped on another 23 National Parks in NSW from November, including ‘little’ Bournda and Ben Boyd parks down here on the south coast.

I don’t know if this item belongs in Training Notes but to me it sure is important. These parks are my backyard, damn it. I paddle in them, my children have birthday parties and school excursions in them, our family has picnics in them… and now we’ll have to pay $6.00 for the privilege each time we go in there. You can be sure too that this is the thin end of the wedge. We’ll soon have fees for all parks and for paddlers, cyclists and walkers too! Really, what’s the matter with the NPWS? This is bad, bad, bad PR in a small community.

If you feel strongly about it, write to the Minister for the Environment, Bob Debus, at Parliament House, Macquarie Street, Sydney… And while you’re doing it, you might also write to Eddie Obeid, Minister for Fisheries. NSW Fisheries is presently ‘softening up’ the NSW public for a saltwater fishing licence. Seems that these government departments can’t get along on the money we already give them in taxes!

I feel some civil disobedience coming on!

Green Boats

A few years ago I made a prototype for the kayak I now make and I flow-coated it olive green. In Sydney Harbour, a kayak of this colour would probably get you run over by the JetCats on your first day out, but down here on the south coast I figured it would one day be the boat colour of choice to be able to camp undisturbed by rangers on our beaches and estuaries. Maybe that day will arrive sooner rather than later: Dirk Stuber tells me that all bush camping in the Royal National Park has been banned… no more Royal Banquet paddles.

Try this exercise: Write a list of all the coastal places in your paddling areas where you can legally camp with your kayak free of charge. If your shire is like mine, you’ll have a very short list.

Rolling Psychology

In the latest issue of US Sea Kayaker magazine are two articles concerned with rolling. One deals with mental attitudes and the other with a manoeuvre whereby the paddler twists their body around the side of their capsized kayak to get breaths of air before rolling up.

What is it with the Americans? Are they trying to make an involved science discipline out of a truly basic sea kayaking skill? Why do they treat a basic roll as an advanced manoeuvre? I mean, with the latter article mentioned above, why contort your body to breathe when you could just roll up and do the same thing… and be a lot warmer too!

A few years ago, Norm Sanders went to America to check out the kayak shops, many of which are situated right on the water. He tells the story of doing a few rolls in a demo boat and all the staff gathered around to watch because they had never seen it done before!

As for mental attitudes, I think there is just no substitute for practice. Forget about visualizing this and that… if you get bowled over by a wave, just roll up! Just do it.

Rolling is a basic sea kayaking skill – it is the very best self-rescue method there is. Nothing even comes close… not paddle floats, not compressed air bladders, not sea wings or sponsons, NOTHING! There are no gimmicks, aids, costs. All you need is your paddle (and some paddlers don’t even need that) and practice.

Yes folks, practice is the key to good, reliable rolling… and lots of it. You need to do thousands of them to be able to rely on your roll. Luckily, they’re fun to do! A few of the guys I paddle with have a rule: Do some rolls EVERY time you launch your kayak. Try it! It works.

In the NSWSKC, there is no excuse for not having a good reliable roll. We have lots of proficient rollers in this Club and all are willing to share their knowledge with you. Why not tap into this vast store of knowledge at our Rock ‘n’ Roll Weekend in November. If you can’t roll, come along and learn. There is no trick or secret. You can do it! I promise you this: the better your roll, the less likely you are to need it!

Bass Strait Crossing Report

Every so often a really good piece of sea kayaking literature comes along that you just have to have. When that book, report or whatever concerns some of your local paddling waters then it becomes even more important that it becomes part of your sea kayaking reference library.

Such a volume was published in April of this year.

Ian Dunn of Cheltenham, Victoria, crossed Bass Strait with Peter Provis, Julian Smith and Tina Rowley earlier this year and then wrote a report of the crossing which includes just about everything you would need to know about crossing the strait.

Whether you’re planning a crossing in the near or distant future or just want to read up on the crossing, I can recommend Ian’s publication.

Copies of the report can be obtained from Ian at 18 Booker Street, Cheltenham VIC 3192 for $10.00 (including postage) or you can call him on (03) 9584 7682 for further information.

Day Hatches

If you have a day hatch on your sea kayak, what do your call the other hatches? Some thoughts on day hatches:

I was talking to a paddler recently who has a day hatch on his boat and he told me that he doesn’t use his day hatch at sea.

“Where do you store all the items you need at sea?” I enquired.

“Oh, in the day hatch, but I only get them out when I’m ashore,” he replied.

To me this is bad planning. All items you may need at sea must be readily accessible from your cockpit in all conditions… things like your cag, drink bottle, extra food, radio, tow bag, knife, etc… the list goes on.

No matter where you store them, they MUST be accessible all the time or one day you’ll come unstuck in a big way. Some points:

If you have a day hatch on your boat, why not use it? Practice using it in choppy conditions. Beam on to a stiff nor’easter is ideal. Sure you’re going to get waves sloshing into the hatch occasionally but most day hatches have low volume so it shouldn’t be a problem should it? I once had a wave come over the back deck while I had the day hatch lid off. It filled the day hatch right to the top. Couldn’t get the water out, out there at sea, so I just put the lid on and continued paddling. Actually, the day hatch was full of gear so the actual extra amount I took on wasn’t that great… which brings me to the next point:

The gear you store in the day hatch should be able to take an occasional dunking. If not, put it in another hatch or put it in a waterproof bag. The day hatch is an ideal location to store some of your heavy items such as water bags and bottles, stove, camera, etc.

Realise that after a vigorous surf exit, maybe with a few rolls, that your yummy muesli bar may have re-located in the day hatch to the other side of the boat. Can you still reach it?

Don’t count on a mate getting your lunch out of your front hatch for you at lunchtime out at sea – he or she may not be around when you need some food. Store everything you need close to you!

What sort of hatch lid does your day hatch have? Can you get the lid back on securely and quickly before the wave of the day descends on you? The most popular day hatch would be the 8″ round from Valley Canoe Products in England. They can be removed and replaced in seconds. They also seem to benefit from an occasional spray of Armor-All. There are some Valley clones around too. I’ve seen a few of these which are pretty stiff to operate with one hand behind your back. Check them carefully for ease of operation – both coming off AND going back on before heading out to sea.

Whoops!

In the last issue of NSW Sea Kayaker I wrote about basic turns in your sea kayak and I made a mistake on page 55. Did you find it? More importantly, did it confuse anyone? Check the centre column on page 55 in the last issue.

Turning a Sea Kayak – continued from Training Notes in issue 37

Let’s continue with some turns.

OK, last issue we were leaning the boat out away from the turn by lifting the inside knee and pivoting at the hips to keep our CG (centre of gravity) over the hull as much as possible. By using different lean angles at different boat speeds, you would have found that the turn rate was different too. Practice is the key here. By doing a little each time you paddle you’ll quickly become familiar with your sea kayak. Don’t forget to practice with a loaded boat too – 20 kg of camping gear will make quite a change to your boat’s behaviour on edge.

Let’s have a look at turning a sea kayak in strong winds. This seems to get paddlers into all sorts of bother at times… and rightly so because wind is often a sea kayaker’s enemy on the water.

If you sit in your boat in open water in a wind of, say 20 knots (that is a pretty strong wind – many paddlers overstate wind speeds), your kayak will more or less turn beam on to the wind and stay that way. Why? Because it’s now in equilibrium. It has even wind pressure fore and aft of you pushing against the water under the hull fore and aft of you. Your boat is happy!

If you have a rudder fitted, put it down and you’ll notice that the bow now swings a bit more downwind. It does this because wind resistance has been removed from the rear deck and ADDED to the water resistance aft of you. Result: bow moves downwind slightly.

OK, we’re sitting pretty much beam on and the boat is plopping over each wind wave. The direction you’re pointing though is not where you want to go. Suppose this wind is a westerly and you’re at sea. If you can’t turn upwind, your next stop will be New Zealand paddling with Rob Gardner!

To get your kayak to go upwind (or downwind which we’ll cover in a moment) will require some effort. You need to take control of your kayak from the wind. As wind speeds increase (25+ knots), you’ll find it more and more difficult to move your kayak out of this equilibrium by conventional short BACK PADDLE, FORWARD PADDLE, BACK PADDLE manoeuvres. The wind becomes too strong and pushes the boat back into the beam-on equilibrium. The problem is also exacerbated with longer boats because the wind has more purchase on your kayak further from your paddle (levers, young Winston, levers).

What we need is speed! We need water moving past the kayak’s hull so that any steering stroke we initiate will have a greater effect in countering the wind.

Let’s paddle hard straight across the wind. Get that boat moving. Let’s use the boat’s tendency to weathercock to our advantage. Now, using the outside-of-the-turn foot pressure with inside-knee-lift we’ll initiate a turn. We can help the boat to turn more forcefully by leaning well forward to lighten up the stern (remember the stern needs to swing out) and making our paddle strokes on the outside of the turn wider for more turning moment. We can also slide our hands along the paddle shaft to make that outside stroke into a genuine sweep stroke. Keep those paddle strokes going on the inside of the turn too. We need the speed. The boat will come around. (Matt Broze makes additional comments)

Our strong wind has of course generated waves which are slapping against the boat as we paddle across the wind. We can use the waves to our advantage in turning the kayak. You’ll need to time an outside-of-the-turn sweep stroke with the bow section of the boat being out of the water over a wave. Get this right and the boat will move onto your new course very quickly. (Matt Broze makes additional comments)

Right, the boat has come around towards the wind but your course is not quite bang-on upwind… perhaps 10-20 degrees off. What can you do to help hold the boat on this course without using the rudder?

The answer is: use your bodyweight to change the weight distribution in your kayak. How well this works will depend on various factors but it is another thing that you need to work out for yourself in your boat. So… heading upwind, perhaps 45 degrees off the wind: if the wind is blowing you back to that beam-on position, lean well forward, well forward, whilst paddling. This will lighten the stern and force the bow in. Use the wind here to change your course. (Matt Broze makes additional comments)

Similarly, if you want to turn off the wind, lean well back to force the stern in and lighten the bow. These two manoeuvres should be accompanied by degrees of boat lean – use everything you’ve got – don’t make your paddling too hard.

Turning downwind from that position of equilibrium is not too difficult but remember that your kayak may suddenly pick up a wave as it comes onto a downwind course, so be ready.

Again, paddle hard across the wind. Now, initiate some upwind boat lean by lifting the downwind knee and also pushing hard on the upwind footrest only. The other thing you have to do is lean well back. Get that keel well into the water and lighten the bow as much as you can. Keep the lean-back position until the bow turns downwind. The boat may turn very quickly when the waves pick it up so be ready. On ANY downwind heading, all your turns should be made while still in the lean-back position. Try it. (Matt Broze makes additional comments)

The key to all this is practice. You just have to get out there and do it. So next time it’s blowing a gale on the harbour, get your kayak out there and practice. Probably wise to practice with an experienced paddler if you haven’t done too much of this before. It’s also wise to practice near a LEE shore with a safe landing.

Sea Instructor Assessment Candidates: A wind is blowing from the west over an island. Which side of the island is the LEE SHORE and which is the WEATHER SHORE?

Rock ‘n’ Roll Weekend, 2000

Our Rock ‘n’ Roll Weekend is on again this year on the last weekend in November (Saturday, Sunday and Monday). Check the Trips Calendar in this issue.

Each year we have lots of paddlers who want to develop and hone their sea kayaking skills and we sometimes have a great need of experienced paddlers to assist.

So, what we ask is this: if you have well developed sea kayaking skills, (and maybe the Sea Proficiency Award) which you have gained with the assistance of Club members, why not come along to the Rock ‘n’ Roll Weekend and pass those skills on to some other paddlers?

If we all do a little of this, the skill level of all paddlers in the Club will continue to rise.

See you there…

Top Tips [43]

After our fantastically successful debut with Top Tips in the last issue, we received a plethora of submissions to Top Tips for this issue…

Alas, of the hundreds received, we can print only one, so self-confessed kayak devotee and all-round good guy Wayne Langmaid gets the stamp of approval this month, with a fantastic suggestion for tricky pump installation.

All that is needed is a willing 7-year-old who is handy with the tools. Wayne declined to comment when asked by our own Flotsam & Jetsam reporters whether his lithe 7-year-old daughter Emmy was available for hire to Club members building and repairing their own boats…

It’s That Time Of The Year Again [43]

Membership Renewal Alert

Membership renewal time again… time for you all to raid the piggy banks and lift the lounge cushions for the necessaries to keep us functioning for another year…

Alas we cannot continue to function on the super-value membership fees that we have maintained for many, many years.

The Club’s two largest expenditures are the production and distribution of the Club magazine four times a year and Public Liability Insurance.

The magazine production costs have been slowly increasing over the past few years which is reflected in the standard of the magazine produced.

Public Liability Insurance was introduced last year and the premium has increased this year.

The membership fee has not increased significantly since the Club was established in the late 1980’s and the current membership fee does not reflect what the Club now has to offer.

To ensure the Club’s future existence and enable some expansion in areas such as training and assessments, a membership increase has to be implemented.

With this in mind, individual memberships are now $50.00 per year, and family memberships are now $55.00 per year.

All the normal training, insurance, trip opportunities and quarterly magazine issues are still provided as part of the yearly membership fee.

We are sure you will agree that the NSWSKC is still great value for money and I hope to see you on the water next year.

To renew your membership, simply complete the renewal form at the back of this magazine and pop it together with your cheque into the reply paid envelope enclosed with this magazine (no stamp required) and whiz it into your nearest post box.

Stuart Trueman – Secretary/Treasurer

Product Review [43]

Mountain Design “The Hutt”

by David Whyte

I have just been checking out a new tent which is ideal for sea kayaking. My son bought it for doing Tasmania’s south coast track hike next January so I had a chance to have a good look at it.

The tent is a new model out by Mountain Design called The Hutt and is aimed at the bushwalking market. It is classed as a two man tent but it was pretty snug, though it had slightly more room than my Macpac Minaret and weighs the same. The floor space is uniform (i.e. not tapering) making it easier for two people to share. My son plans on sharing it for 10 days on his hike.

The tent was easy to put up using two cross poles as a sort of elongated Dome. The inner can be put up as a free standing tent to give you insect protection but you’d want to hope it doesn’t rain. It has a feature that is not common amongst dome style tents but certainly is in the Macpac range; that is the ability to put the fly up first. It does this by providing a set of cross tapes. This turns it into an excellent light weight shelter or allows you to put the fly up in the rain and the inner later.

Entrance is via a round front vestibule with a protected zip allowing both top or bottom opening providing good shelter in bad weather. It has another interesting feature with a second door on the inner tent that doesn’t appear to go anywhere. There is only one entrance in the fly and the second inner door opens onto the non-opening side of the fly. Although you cannot use this as an entrance, the shape of the fly provides a small vestibule for shoes, etc. It also allows a good bit of ventilation with both doors and the fly open.

Construction was very sound and the tent appears to be well made. It has loops for four storm guys but I found it very firm without the guys attached. The floor has an abrasion resistant coating on the bottom and comes up the sides several inches for those heavy downpours.

• Weight – 2.4 kg
• Poles – 2
• Floor area – 2.7 sq metres
• Internal height – 1.1 metres
• Length – 2.3 metres
• Width – 1.2 metres
• Vestibules – 1.6 sq metres
• Fly – Poly UV70
• Inner – breathable nylon
• Floor – Waterloc Ten-K (hydrostatic head of 10,000 mm)

Tassie Odyssey [43]

The Highs and Lows

By Mik Snoad, with running commentary by David Whyte and Dirk Stuber

Earlier this year David Whyte, Dirk Stuber and I completed a 32-day sea kayak expedition from Devonport to Hobart, a distance of about 650 km.

In this story about the expedition there are lots of gaps in the day by day chronology mainly because the days and moments that most easily come to mind were the high points and low points of the trip.

I have also tried to give a sense of how I was feeling at these times and some of the interactions between the three of us.

Extracts are from my daily diary of the trip with retrospective commentary from both Dave and Dirk.

Day 1

Paddling out east from Devonport on the first day (what a relief to be on the water). After a short lunch break on Wright Island, Dave and I had fast and sometimes furious sailing as the wind increased to about 25 knots.

I was sail/surfing down waves at great speed sometimes out of control. I had to stop occasionally to wait for Dirk who does not use a sail and for Dave who seemed to be making heavy work of it.

This was my best fun sailing since the Cape York trip last September.

Unfortunately David injured his arm on that first day. This was not a propitious start to our expedition and given the nature of his injury (to forearm tendons) could make it difficult for him to continue. What a blow and a worry especially for David as the trip idea and most of the planning was done by him.

David thinks sailing in the boisterous conditions without a rudder caused the injury. Many powerful sweep strokes are required to keep the kayak from broaching in those conditions.

Day 2

High humour (on my part at least) at our lunch stop where a large dog shapes up to Dave’s boat and cocks its leg. It then gets a whiff of the salami in Dirk’s boat and tries to abscond with it.

We had stopped for lunch on a sheltered beach at Low Head near the mouth of the Tamar River. Crossing the mouth of the river was an interesting experience with a mix of standing waves and aggressive powerboats.

Day 4

We reach Bridport on schedule despite slow progress at times caused by Dave’s injured arm. Hot showers at the camping ground are heaven. Dave visited the local doctor and got some oral anti-inflammatory drugs for his arm injury.

We all had medicinal alcohol and a fun night at the pub where the locals treated us like brothers. The steak and seafood dinner was superb.

David decided to stay in Bridport to install a rudder and to rest his arm then rejoin us in two days time at Little Musselroe Bay. All this with the generous help of Jeff Jennings of the Maatsuyker Canoe Club.

Day 8

Stuck at Little Musselroe Bay. David rejoined us yesterday afternoon. However he is dry retching and cannot hold down any food and not much drink. We worry about the cause of his sickness and hope he will recover quickly so we can get going.

Day 10

We have lost another day this time stuck on Swan Island in Banks Strait. Dave is still quite sick and is getting weaker from lack of food and possibly dehydrated. Also strong onshore easterly winds make a departure off the rocks at our landing spot at Jetty Cove a risky proposition.

Dirk and I are both losing patience with the continued delays and feel Dave should seriously consider quitting the trip or at least get medical help and have an extended period of recuperation before rejoining us later on. This is difficult to arrange given our location on Swan Island and the strong winds.

Discussion on these options is at times heated. Nigel the caretaker is very helpful. It’s with some relief when Dave departs for the mainland (of Tassie) on a cray boat with Doug who we had previously met at the Bridport Pub. I went for a long walk to the western side of the Island to get some personal space.

Day 11

Late afternoon at Stumpy Bay – a beautiful spot with the wonderful light of the late afternoon sun highlighting the large creamy coloured boulders that inhabit this part of the coast. There is a very large shell midden not far from our campsite.

Today Dirk and I have finally turned the NE corner of Tassie and are now at last heading south towards our destination of Hobart. Our morning paddle was a hard slog against tide and wind from Swan Island to Musselroe Bay. For me it’s been a relief to put Dave’s problems behind us for a while.

Day 12

A long hard 48 km slog mostly against a 10 to 15 knot headwind. The hard grind takes a lot of the joy out of the experience. The coastline is very attractive in places with lots of offshore reefs and small rocky islands with bull kelp attached.

I sense Dirk is unhappy with me for pushing on. He is a strong paddler but I get the impression he is bored with the hard slog especially two days in succession. I’m feeling grumpy and not sympathetic as I am keen to make our next reprovisioning stop at Bicheno, about 80 km away before a series of cold fronts and storms forecast for later in the week stops us.

I am starting to be concerned that our earlier delays mean we may not have time to paddle along the spectacular cliffs of the SE coastline around Cape Pillar and Tasman Island. This is a priority for me.

A comment from Dirk:

“I know you expected to sail a lot more and I think this influenced your moods. You were hoping to relieve fatigue with sailing and it rarely happened.

“I think as a generalisation a non-sailor would have to pay more attention to technique and fitness because there is no alternative. On the other side the non-sailor has to be comfortable with the fact that on windy days the sailors will usually get ahead especially over long distances. People should be aware of this when they are planning expeditions.”

Day 13

Dave is back with us recovered from his illness and seems to be coping with the paddling quiet well with his arm tightly strapped. We make good progress in the morning with Dave and I sailing part of the way.

We stop near the town of Beaumaris to make phone calls and have lunch. This landing place on a steep beach with a small but nasty shore dump was a big mistake!

Day 14

The loss of half of our only spare paddle in the surf exit yesterday afternoon was the start of an unfortunate chain of events that resulted in our lunch stop at Beaumaris dragging on for two tense days.

After a fruitless search for the paddle we had an uncomfortable first night camped on the wet sand in heavy rain. This discomfort and my frustration culminated in a blazing row between Dirk and I that included an exchange of insults.

It was early morning, wet and foggy and in the dim light difficult to see how big the dumping waves were. I was all fired up to go because the weather forecast indicated that we could get stuck on this exposed beach if we delayed. Dirk was not in a hurry to go anywhere in those conditions.

Later that morning when the conditions had indeed deteriorated Dirk and I took a long walk into Scamander. I was feeling really bad about several things I had said that morning and apologised to Dirk.

Dirk says:

“An amusing point is when we first disagreed at Beaumaris I was naked from the waist down. Because it was raining and dark I did not want to get any clothes wet. I was just wearing my cag.”

Day 15

And what a day! 55 km all paddled in good conditions arriving in Bicheno tired but still feeing strong and with a big fat salmon for dinner.

Despite the windless conditions during the day, a big easterly swell crashing onto the beaches and cliffs made a landing for lunchtime rest stop out of the question. Our only landing rest stop was mid afternoon in the lee of Long Point just 12 km short of our destination.

The surf break-out that morning from Beaumaris beach was a full-on adrenalin rush experience for me. Our early morning consensus had been that we could get off but it would be difficult. Facing us was a vicious dumping shore break with a very strong cross flow then a gutter and then further out 1.5 to 2 metre dumpers with occasional larger sets.

Dirk who has had considerable experience in big surf got out OK with patience in the slop zone and good timing. Dave got a dream run in a lull after I pushed him off into the shore break. I was a bundle of nerves when my turn came. Two aborted attempts later after being swept sideways back onto the beach by the strong side drift, I managed to get off the beach with the help of a bystander.

I promptly capsized in the shore break but managed somehow to roll back up by pushing off the bottom. After a short time in the slop zone where I was mentally rehearsing the possibility of rolling under one of these big buggers in front of me I headed out. Got the timing wrong of course (I’m not big on patience in the surf).

Confronted with an impossibly steep two metre wave with heart pumping I tried the roll under it (something I had never done or even seen done before). I was a bit late with my roll and ended up surfing sideways in the washing machine back toward the beach supported by a big high brace. Not where I wanted to be!

Managed to pull off that wave and head out again after a short wait in the slop zone. Same story again except this time I went into the roll earlier and it worked perfectly.

After the wave passed over me I rolled back up and started a 200 metres gut-busting race to beat another big set that was forming up out the back. When I reached Dirk and Dave patiently waiting for me out the back I was knackered. Only 55 km more to go that day!

Day 17

Probably should have been scared at one stage but I was too busy keeping the boat upright in near gale force conditions accompanied by very strong wind gusts off the cliffs.

About 30 km out from Bicheno (where we had spent the weekend on R & R), the strong winds changed up a gear. Dave and I were negotiating a narrow gap partially blocked by a reef between several sheer islands called the Nuggets and the adjacent towering cliffs of Cape Tourville in very confused seas. Dirk was ahead of us.

I shot through the gap in the reef closely followed by David, then caught a big double header wave and bounced down the front of it at speed into the marginally better conditions where Dirk was waiting for us. What an adrenalin rush!

David says:

“Each morning we always checked the weather forecast which came on around 5:30 am. The forecast for this day was strong winds 20-30 knots. We had a talk about it and decided as it was in a favourable direction we would go.

“By lunch time it gusting to near 50 knots and the strong wind warning had turned into a gale warning. We had forgotten the weatherman’s adage – ‘When the forecast is bad expect the worst.’

“I had to buy 12 maps for this trip 1:100,000 (which is a good scale) and the cost of laminating all of them seemed too much so I opted to carry them in my bushwalking map holder.

“This works fine in most conditions but it can’t take being on the deck all the time as the water gets in, especially in bad weather, so I took to carrying it in my day hatch and bringing it out when necessary.

“When we left Bicheno I studied the map and knew which bay to turn into, what the distance was, and how long it would take to get there. As the weather deteriorated I stopped opening my day hatch as I was carrying my good SLR camera in there as well. The weather was such that opening it meant it was likely to fill with water and though it was in a dry bag I didn’t want to take any chance. At one stage I had the hatch half off and then started shooting down a wave, it was pretty exciting stuff. I put the hatch back on pretty quick.

“Because of this, I didn’t look at the map for a long time thinking I could remember what was on it, but I hadn’t. I also didn’t realise how quickly we were moving (nearly twice our paddling pace), the wind was far too strong for sailing and holding up my unfeathered paddle moved me along quite rapidly.

“When we got to the entrance to Wineglass Bay, which is a long way in, I was convinced it was still around the next headland. Dirk was pretty insistent that we land anyway so we headed in. If we had continued on there would have been no way we could have turned back and it was unlandable cliffs for another 25 km.

“In future I will always carry a map on deck in unknown territory and have a bit more respect for strong wind warnings. Disasters usually come around not because of one mistake but when a few are linked together. Here we made two and a third was in the wings.”

Day 19

Camped at Chicken and Hen Inlet on the southern side of Schouten Island. Feeling good in this sheltered spot after our 34 km trip down from Wineglass Bay.

The spectacular mountains of Freycinet Peninsular are now behind us while ahead of us tomorrow is the longest open water crossing of the trip. I have been feeling a bit apprehensive about this crossing. It’s about 37 km, however the towering peaks of the Bishop and Clerk on Maria Island, our destination, are clearly visible. This crossing shouldn’t be a problem if the weather holds.

Dinner that evening is fresh crayfish for entrée followed by fresh abalone sautéed in oil and garlic then almost fresh tomato and vegetables in a sauce with Cus Cus on the side. We didn’t bother with our usual gourmet herb damper. We were doing it tough!

Day 23

Arrived at Lagoon Bay late afternoon after the long crossing from Maria Island in good conditions once the morning fog had lifted. Dave has been paddling well and his arm injury seems to be getting better.

Dirk says:

“I think Dave should be congratulated for the way he managed his illness. He showed determination, self reliance, courage and made an excellent come back.”

This is a really beautiful spot with high cliffs, rocky inlets and gulches all around us. Gauntlet heaven! Dirk is almost drooling. Dave set up his camera on the headland to catch the sunset and moonrise. A large black snake disappeared down a wombat hole in the middle of our campsite. We worked out that the Reverend Fairey was at this exact spot on his canoe trip over 100 years ago.

Day 28

This is the day I have been waiting for. We head off at 7 am from Fortescue Bay where we have been stuck for two days by strong winds. It was a frustrating wait for all of us. Dirk was keen to get going every morning. I was feeling quiet apprehensive about doing this stretch of the coast in anything other than ideal conditions.

We had been advised by Mike Emery of the Tasmanian Sea Canoeing Club to allow six to eight hours to traverse this very exposed stretch of coastline with its massive cliffs. There would be no landing possible until we reached Port Arthur except for a very tricky seal landing on Tasman Island if the conditions were right.

The previous day Dirk and I took a long walk out to Cape Huay after deciding to wait another day for better weather. From the Cape I could see far out across the windswept and white-capped Munro Bight what looked like a wide band of standing waves trailing out to the east from Cape Pillar 12 km away.

In any event the weather was kind today. Just after a murky sunrise we gaped in awe for a while at the gauntlets between the towering cliffs of Cape Huay and The Lanterns.

The poor light disappointed David. He was hoping for some spectacular photographs of The Totem Pole and The Candlestick to go with an article he would try to have published in US Sea Kayaker magazine. On the beach earlier this morning David had angrily jacked up on Dirk and I because we had wanting to get going before sunrise. He insisted we wait to get good light. I felt guilty for not considering his priorities.

The run through this towering gauntlet between The Totem Pole and The Candlestick was not particularly challenging. There was a big surge in the slot but only an occasional breaking wave coming through. We got to Cape Pillar by about 9:30 am and after a close look at the towering Tasman Island decided a seal landing was out of the question. It was low tide and the swells we needed to lift us up onto the narrow kelp covered rock shelf were not reaching high enough.

Even if a landing had been possible we would have had to fight for possession of that narrow ledge with some very large aggressive looking seals. Unlike the other seal colonies we had come across on our journey these were staying put. So we headed off for Port Arthur after chatting for a while with the two-man crew of a small professional net fishing boat. My TLC felt very seaworthy in this exposed place when I compared it with their open 16-foot tinnie.

At Port Arthur that afternoon we experienced more Tasmanian hospitality, some humour and a self-inflicted headache for me as Dave explains:

“Often when we landed near civilisation Dirk would be a bit embarrassed by Mike and I. We never seemed to be able to get all the white zinc off our faces and sometimes we just plain forgot it was there. We were starting to go feral. So when we called into Port Arthur Village (not the convict ruins), Dirk had had enough and changed into nice respectable clothes (well, his cleanest shorts), and walked into the next town to find some real shops and get a decent cup of coffee.

“Meanwhile, Mike and I are walking around Port Arthur village looking for a public phone. We must have looked quite a sight in our paddling gear – Mike with his shorts that are three sizes too small and me with a face that looked like someone had throw a bag of flour at it.

“But the Tasmanians are some of the friendliest people around and when we asked a local about the phone he invited us up to his place to use his. After several cups of coffee and homemade cake and biscuits, we were ready to leave but he insisted we take some home grown vegetables and some fresh fish he had caught.

“When we got back to our campsite there no sign of Dirk but another friendly local, John, whose house was just above us, invited us up to try his home brew. Now I have seen some good home brew systems but his was unbelievable. Even Mike, who is a bit of a connoisseur in these matters, was impressed. He had a specially modified fridge with a keg and tap inside.

“It was quite a few jugs later when staggered down the hill feeling a little merry, to meet Dirk who was wondering where we were. The home brewer John even gave us a couple of bottles to take back.”

Day 29

From Port Arthur to White Beach is also a long, very exposed stretch of coastline with towering cliffs, especially the magnificent spires of Cape Raoul with its resident seal colony perched on an almost vertical rock face. The unrelenting big swell crashing on the cliffs made the narrow passage between the Cape and Raoul Rocks tricky as the large, confused rebound interacted with a strong tidal flow.

This was the most southerly point on our expedition and we were now on the home stretch to Hobart via White Beach. We have an invitation from Mike Emery to join the Tasmanian Sea Canoeing Club at White Beach for their AGM tonight.

We met up with a large group of Tasmanian kayakers (or sea canoeists as they prefer to call themselves) at Wedge Island where they had landed on boulders. There were kayaks perched up on top of boulders or jammed in between them. Dirk’s plastic boat was no problem to land but I felt compelled to drag my heavily laden TLC up onto the rocks (with Tasmanian help) as if I did this every day!

That night at their AGM where Tasmanian hospitality was once again very evident, I had no hesitation in pronouncing (to loud cheers of agreement) that the coastline we had just traversed is the best and most spectacular sea kayaking environment in Australia. Not so sure about those boulder beaches though.

Day 32

After a couple of days R & R at White Beach, the two day paddle to Hobart (Dirk chose to do it in one day to maximise his time in Hobart) was uneventful. Well almost!

Dave and I had a close encounter on the Derwent River with a large, very fast and very menacing Devil Cat. In the distance we spotted a dark rumbling menacing shape silhouetted against a huge trailing plume of white spray. It was heading directly towards us at high speed!

With a sense of awe and disbelief I said to David, “Do you see what I see?” Our hurried assessment was followed by a quick sprint, hesitation, reassessment, then a radical change in direction, which put us about 100 metres to the side by the time it reached us. The scary thing is that we had no idea if they ever saw us. This took all of about 30 seconds!

We paddled into Constitution Dock in late afternoon. I was feeling a strange sense of unreality in this place full of artificial structures, unnatural noises and smells. However I felt it was appropriate to finish in this historic place remembering that the Reverend Fairey had also completed a similar journey in his sea canoe here over 100 years ago. Dirk and Mike Emery met us and whisked us away to Mike and Veronica’s secluded house up on the mountainside behind Hobart.

My spaced out feelings and sense of unreality continued for quite a while. However, the generous Tasmanian hospitality and a few Cascade ales soon fixed that.

An interesting question to finish off with is “Would we do it all again?”

Our 650 km, 32 day expedition was a total experience. There were many moments of wonder and joy. There were also many frustrations and some stressful incidents.

This was real life. It is not really surprising that the three of us were at odds with each other at times. Even before we left home we had discussed some apparent differences in our individual expectations and priorities for the trip.

Dave says:

“If you put three middle-aged blokes together for five weeks paddling, eating, sleeping and socialising together every day you can expect some friction.”

Dirk says:

“We deserve a pat on the back with the group decision making. 32 days and 650 km and only one scary incident, Wineglass Bay, I think is excellent. We were relative strangers when we started. And we are still talking.”

The answer to the question is for me an unqualified yes. I am addicted to Tassie.

Footnotes

• Dirk and I and two others are preparing for another trip to Tassie early next year.
• David has submitted an article, along with 50 of his slides, to US Sea Kayaker magazine. They have accepted several slides for publication – watch out in coming issues. The rest of the slides may be back for the slide show at the AGM.

Tail-end Charlie [43]

By Ian Phillips

Well that was a top idea… take the day off work, paddle for five hours outside the Heads, then agree to meet the infamous ‘Thursday Night Bunch’ for a quick paddle down Middle Harbour…

Not only was I demented enough to jump to this challenge, I was demented enough to try and do it in my super-cruisey folder…

The day had started magnificently. A pleasant uneventful drive in the blazing sun to a quiet stretch of Clontarf beach. The forecast had been promising, some nice chop and swell outside the heads – just the way I like it – not glassy flat and boring, not too rough and treacherous…

A reasonably quick 25 minutes to create my folding kayak monster from the boot, this time amazingly not forgetting to attach the seat before jumping in at the waters edge. Totally exhausted from inflating sponsons and flotation bags, I paddle off gently, surveying the serene calmness of Middle Harbour before pushing out into the choppy wilderness that is so often ‘the Heads’.

A quick look-out for my arch-rival, the Manly ferry, finds nothing of a similar shape in view, the only potential attackers appear to be a flotilla of 18 footers haphazardly targeting small boats as they dissect the harbour in ever-quickening, mind-boggling patterns…

I push off from my ‘safe area’ in the midst of the Grotto Point bombora and ferociously attack the harbour, determined in my attempt to make it across just once in a straight line, without the necessity to divert for a JetCat, without the requirement to resort to primal fight-or-flight behaviour with a jet ski fink, or indeed without having to bale out completely as an inebriated yachtie slides over my bow, blissfully unaware of me punching holes in his hull as I am keel-hauled below…

Of course my get-up is hardly appropriate for any condition except paddling on bright yellow rivers, as I traverse busy shipping lanes in my dark green boat, black lifejacket and dark green hat… And I wonder why I am the target of so much hostility on the harbour…

Half way across what is really a ridiculously short crossing but often a life-threatening experience, I curse the tugboat that is barrelling down the harbour, seemingly out of control on a mission of target acquisition and control with some poor hapless tanker waiting outside the Heads. I paddle furiously in the opposite direction, certain I can hear muffled laughter as they storm by at something that appears close to 400 knots, and I bob around uncontrollably in their wake, feeling a little like a crash test dummy on speed…

Alas, I will have to try next time for an uneventful crossing. The rest of the short crossing is uneventful, thankfully, only stopping once more when a lost diving school student pops up uninvited in front of my bow.

I reach the choppy heaven that is the washing machine of the Heads, and I pause for a minute, tossing a mental coin on which direction to take… heads for North, tails for South. I ponder for a moment and reject the coin option completely, instead choosing to paddle straight out – remembering Stuart Trueman’s calendar entry about “finding out what’s out there,” and deciding that this is as good a time as any to find out.

It proves decidedly difficult to work out how far you are going and how far you have been when you can see nothing in front of you, and until I turn around and see that the Heads look rather small, I didn’t think I had made much ground, or should that be water?

I fantasise about paddling to New Zealand for lunch, but decide against it after realising that I have to feed the cat tonight…

Instead I choose to lunch in the spot where I now rest – it appears as good as anywhere, and seeing that I don’t see any trees or sand around, I figure it may as well do.

I carry a poor old paddle float under my feet for such occasions, never actually having used the float for self-rescue, but buying it when I started paddling on the advice of some silly twit in a paddling shop. Instead it has become my faithful gin-palace assistant, set up for extended lunches at sea, allowing me to wander the deck and lie back and enjoy the serenity… well almost…

I deploy the device on the end of my spare paddle (terrified that one day it will drift away with my favourite paddle attached and I will be unable to catch it with my slim and slippery back-up unit), and I sit back to a light lunch of muesli bars, warm water and bananas. I consider making a cup of tea with my trusty thermos – the wife always wonders what happened to her favourite thermos – but ever fearful of scalds to my weary body, I think again and re-stow the precious liquid below.

Refreshed and refuelled, and jolly pleased that there were no pesky buzzards, seagulls or whatever they are called flapping around, I pack and prepare for the paddle homeward, deciding that to paddle further would cause me to lose consciousness during my sojourn with the Thursday Night Bunch later that evening…

I pass by a small, pitching fishing boat on the way back, and silently creeping up on their port side, I nearly send two peaceful fishermen to an early grave as I paddle into view in my stealth kayak. I quickly paddle off when they start throwing insults and bait in my direction… Old squid sticks marvellously to Cordura in case you were wondering how to attack me next time I creep up on you…

Apart from my brief encounter with the long-life bait, the return trip is relatively uneventful, as my return trips always are… Perhaps I should conduct one-way trips only…

I arrive back at the beach, positive that I can’t feel my legs, deciding to exit in the water just in case… A good idea too, as I collapse beneath the surface – thankfully my lifejacket supports my poor old noggin and I crawl to the shore, unclipping the painter on the kayak as I struggle past, and crawl above the waterline for a quick snooze…

I had originally planned to paddle up Middle Harbour, meet the Thursday Night Bunch, then paddle valiantly back to my starting point and call it a day.

Dementedly, and no doubt deliriously, I come to the conclusion that I am too tired to paddle up Middle Harbour, deciding it far easier to pack up and drive there, then paddle with the group. I conveniently forget that the paddling distance will be the same, but I have now added a couple of kayak construction procedures to my already lengthy day… Hmmm…

I arrive at the ‘starting point’ for the Thursday Night Bunch, only now realising the stupidity of my actions as I once again create my kayak queen – at least this time it is a little easier to slide the frame into the wet carcass!

I jump in the water, deciding that if I stay in-situ, in-kayak, I may just make the trip without incident and without worrying about whether I can ever walk again…

The ‘Crowd’ starts to arrive, and I greet them aloofly from my vessel, hoping that I can stay this way until we disembark…

Nevil, the notorious leader of the Thursday Night Bunch, arrives and I remain in my boat at the waters edge. He asks if I am going to disembark to meet the group… I reluctantly comply, not wishing to advise at such an early stage that I am in fact stuck in this position from the days paddle. Nevertheless, I manage to scrape myself up the boat ramp in a semi-upright position and make myself known.

I survey the collection of swift craft before me, already fearful that I will never see these people again once we launch, admiring the gracious lines and polished hulls, carbon fibre paddles and massively offset blades. I cast a glance back at my agricultural folder sans rudder and my unfeathered half-touring paddle, and I resign myself to my usual position of Tail End Charlie…

Once the group is set, we launch from the slippery boat ramp and push off down Middle Harbour – our destination: Balmoral Beach.

Within minutes of launch I see the back of several members fading into the distance, and after a spot of bird-watching with the remaining group, they too slowly ease away and fade out of view, the tell-tale blinking of lights the only indication that they are still out there. I try to catch up for a little while, then decide that my long day has been hard enough, and I sit back for a relaxing paddle through the twilight, marvelling at the birds and creatures around me, casting an occasional glance into some well-lit mansion from my vantage point at the base of their jetty.

I explore the shoreline until it is too dark to see, and finally remember that I am part of a group, so push on for the Spit Bridge, hoping that they are not coming back to look for me!

I have always loved the water at night, fondly remembering my days at sea on large ships when I would relax on deck after sunset with a cool drink and the breeze in my face.

But, I no longer go to sea, and I rarely have the time to get out on the water after dark very often, and so I am in my own little dreamland as I push on under the Spit Bridge, fighting a little with the current near the shore, and then paddling a bizarre zigzag pattern through the moored yachts as I paddle past Skiffies restaurant, sniffing deeply as aromas fill the air, almost deciding to pop in for a plate of my favourite seafood…

A massive barge appears, manhandled by two tugboats, and it slowly chugs its way past me, blocking all view as the hulk pushes water in my direction. I contemplate throwing a line to hitch a free ride, but wonder where I might end up and quickly change my mind…

As I round the point to Balmoral, I see the first of the group paddling back, and, deciding that if I keep going I will not get back before sunrise, I turn around and follow, confident that the remainder of the group will shortly overtake me again!

Sure enough, not ten minutes pass before I am amidst the group again, laughing and joking about all sorts of nonsense. Another five minutes passes before my permission is sought for them to push on ahead. “Go ahead,” I call, “I’ll see you shortly,” knowing how much my slow paddling annoys even my closest friends…

The trip back is harder, my long day is taking its toll, and I push deeper with each stroke as I see the blinking lights of the group fade away.

I watch several fish jump around and nab insects on the surface as I slide past a point, and not looking where I am going, very unceremoniously bump into a navigation post, instantly scaring away all the fish I was so keen on watching. Disappointed at my stupidity, and vowing not to tell the Club about this one as well, I paddle on, deciding that getting home would perhaps be the best option for the time being.

I finally arrive back at the launching ramp, lifting my poor old kayak up the ramp to rest near the once-again shiny and sleek vessels of the group, their having already completed a full wash-down and pack-up whilst I meandered back.

I haphazardly dismantle my beast, wildly shoving bits and pieces into the boot, happy to have made it back, pleased to be able to bid my new kayak friends adieu before calling it a night, pleased that I made it back before their launch date the following week…

No, these are not ferocious speed demons, nor are they super men and women with some tightly guarded secret weapon. It is merely me, in my trusty cruising folder, content to meander back and forth, up against the average paddler in the average craft, whizzing through the water at breakneck speeds!

My stint at being a selfish jet ski fink behind me, I no longer desire to travel quickly, or even travel very far. I now enjoy being in the water, paddling for fun, paddling because I enjoy what I paddle and how I paddle. Sometimes I paddle with others, mostly I paddle alone – in fact, when with others I still seem to mostly paddle alone! Nevertheless, I always have a whole bunch of fun on the water.

Sadly I have not had time to make it back to the enjoyable company of the Thursday Night Bunch – that damned bill-paying mechanism called work keeps getting in the way… But soon, hopefully, I will watch their blinking lights fade into the distance again…

My Inside Story on Outside Seams [43]

By Doug Lloyd

I enjoyed immensely the articles by both Larry Gray and David Winkworth via the on-line newsletter edition (or is that the ‘E-zine’ now that you are a magazine?).

Both men seem to have a good insider’s view of the outside seam issue, adequately preaching their respective polemical viewpoints. I love the hair-splitting surrounding these seam-splitting semantics, as I believe there is educational value in these types of spirited discussions. As one who is largely insulated from, and ignorant of, southern coast politics – I’d like to offer some objective anecdotal evidence in connection with seam failure, critical leakage, and an alternative methodology for supplemental strengthening.

By way of introduction, I paddle mostly solo – in all-weather-all-year conditions – kayaking out of Victoria, British Columbia, Canada for the last twenty-plus years.

My 1980 Nordkapp is used in heavy surf, seal landings, storm paddling, tidal races/overfalls and extended expeditions. It has been rebuilt and polyurethane repainted three times now, including an additional oval hatch behind the seat, wrap-around seat bulkhead, foot pump, butterfly foot pedals, and a deep draft rudder. The dealer was originally questioned at the time of purchase, and reassurances were given that VCP boats conformed to the strictest ‘British Standard Marine Series’ code regarding ‘canoe’ construction.

Having already snapped a white water kayak in half in winter surf, my fears were hardly allayed regarding the lack of an outside tape seam on my new acquisition – the Nordkapp HS.

Within a year, nary a trace of the outside gelcoat ‘seam’ remained, mostly due to BCU rescue practice, encounters with BC’s plethora of logs kicked up during storm surges, and also due to gravel avulsion within dumping surf (when swimming in away from the kayak was called for).

Perhaps paddling in those particular venues were not quintessential seamanship, but the cosmetic damage was a rapid consequence nevertheless.

A year or so later, a sortie was made to an area renowned for sea caves and deep surge channels. With a calm day in the offing, a steep rogue wave later in the afternoon was a real surprise, broaching the kayak sideways in the 5 metre wide surge channel. As the wave passed, the bow and stern were left embedded in the channel’s opposing steep rock faces, while the sea receded by a metre or more below the hull.

With a week’s worth of gear and my own body weight buckling the kayak amidships, a huge chunk of the stern’s horn finally tore off at the back end of the kayak. This occurred when the kayak plummeted into the chasm, splitting a 30 cm length of the rear seam just aft of the round VCP hatch.

A year later, I was surfing 40 knot-plus wind waves over a shoreline reef near a tourist lookout, when a too-steep roller drove the nose deep into a submerged tide pool, catapulting the boat end over end.

The sudden jarring caused the aluminium footrest to break free from its fibreglass mounting tab, whereupon my hips lodged deeply within the confines of the hull’s interior (I am relatively short).

Unable to roll back up, salvation came from above by way of a visiting Washingtonian who rushed from his parked vehicle and proceeded to flip me back up once washed ashore. There was now a 20 cm split in the front seam just ahead of the front round hatch.

Upset, I stormed into the dealer.

Okay, it wasn’t normal paddling, but an atypical adventurer expects a lot more from his ‘British Heavy’ – given the amount of hype over allegations about tough construction standards.

Fast forward a few more years to the Oregon Coast. A surf meet was in progress, coming to a halt when swell started breaking at 3-4 metres. A young man, not me this time, continued to play – but bailed after being looped. His Nordkapp, with 300 lbs of water in the cockpit, cart wheeled through the surf zone, splitting all its seams and barely remaining semi-intact. Erran, who purchased his Nordkapp in Victoria, asked the dealer to see if the factory would cover the cost of a replacement kayak under warranty.

VCP wrote back, said no, and indicated it was the initial snap in the centre deck that damaged the integrity of the laminate. This caused the boat to behave like two separate pieces, and that the flexible, impact resistant woven fabric of polyester Diolen in the hull folded but didn’t tear and shatter like the deck, which used mat and saturated resin to create stiffness, yet conform to deck fitting protuberances.

Furthermore, Erran was told that due to interlaminar shear strength – which meant in this case the woven cloth seam was much stronger than the bond between layers, as was the case with the delaminated hull – such that upon folding, the inside seam pulled off like two long zippers each side.

At least, at the time, I finally understood why my own seam kept splitting and subsequently letting water in. I also came to appreciate that fixing split, delaminated sections of inside seam required removal of the entire offending old seam tape area. Simply glassing over old damage left the upper and lower half of the kayak at the seam line still moving independently of each other in a vertical plane.

I was told an outside seam would do the same thing if added and then over-flexed, so not to bother adding them.

The winter and spring of 98/99 proved to be the stormiest in decades. I went out storm paddling a lot in our cold BC waters (7 degrees Celsius). On one unfortunate occasion, the kayak was blown back to a different area of the beach in 45 knot gusts, where dislodged logs rolled about menacingly.

Dangerous, but not deadly like the open coast would have been, I surfed into the end grain of one big log, broached sideways, then was hit broadside before rolling, battering ram style, by a perpendicular log embedded in the sand and gravel.

The Nordkapp seams were hopelessly split, with the bulkheads arresting more severe delaminating. I actually did not realize how dramatic the damage was, and went paddling in a different area, subsequently floundering offshore with little reserve buoyancy as further delaminating and flooding occurred – but did return to the protected bay launch site by surfing wind waves, albeit in a sluggish manner. I now always check prior to re-launching after impact incidents.

With only a few weeks left before leaving on a preseason trip to the Mid Coast of BC with two friends, I worked feverishly to fix the kayak.

Consulting with individuals and listserver groups like Paddlewise, I determined it was best to chisel out and remove all existing and damaged inside seams, save for the distal ends fore and aft – which never delaminated and were largely inaccessible.

It quickly became apparent that VCP did not take the time to pre-cut the original, narrow interior seam tape. Rather than cut around the inside deck fitting mounds, the tape was simple glassed in lower down on the hull.

This only left 15 mm overlapping the deck join. No wonder side impacts so easily delaminated the tape joint (but I also understand the production requirement for this to be done).

After final preparation, I glassed in 25, 50, 75, and 100 mm cloth tape along all inside hull-to-deck joins (outside duct-taped to keep original shape), pre-cutting the 75 and 100 mill cloth tape for proper distribution.

A twenty-year-old kayak is obviously not ‘green’ anymore, so I substituted fibreglass resin with quality two-part epoxy resin. I then decided to screw convention, and taped-off with masking tape a 25 mm outside seam line, sanding the defined area of exterior gelcoat with a coarse grit sandpaper.

Using epoxy resin again, I added two layers, done one day apart, applying the 25 mm cloth tape in as straight a line as possible. For cosmetic purposes, I masked off a 30 mm line, and then brushed on the entire length a thin slurry of powder-thickened epoxy – working one side at a time up on edge.

By pulling off the masking tape just prior to the epoxy going gelatinous, a smooth, rolled edge gave the usual ‘flowcoat’ polyester gelcoat look, covering the textured cloth tape, and giving it a bit of protection.

I then painted the new exterior seam with black paint. As an experiment, I tried prying off the seam with a chisel, but it was impossible. Epoxy resin is a tenacious bonding agent.

After another week adding an exterior and interior keel of UMHW plastic and ash respectively (bolted through the hull), I left for the extreme weather of the Mid Coast. On day 5 I hit a reef in a rock garden while surfing at 7 knots, with no damage, other than cosmetic. The new seams were holding well.

On day 7 the three of us ill-advisedly decided to cross the open waters of Queen Charlotte Sound, in order to get a suffering member of the team back to the protection of Vancouver Island’s east coast (he had been ill-prepared for the minus 5 degree evenings and cold, heavy seas and constant SE gales).

The two hour paddle to the mid-point Storm Islands from Cape Caution turned into an 8 hour ordeal (and a 6 hour tow for me with a stricken paddler) when an unexpected gale and 3 knot unknown persistent ebb swept us away from the intended island and all land.

The other member’s North American kayak eventually split a seam in the heavy, difficult seas, flooding it to the knee tube. His kayak had inside and outside 50 mm taped seams, but I don’t believe the manufacturer had prepped the outside properly. With the other paddler hypothermic, a number of Maydays were issued, entailing a complex air-sea rescue scenario.

Subsequent transfers from a first response fishing boat (vessel of opportunity) to the tasked Coast Guard rescue boat witnessed the other two kayak heavily damaged while being pulled over the railings of both craft. My kayak suffered only cosmetic damage by over-taxed SAR personnel.

I make no apologies for the type of paddling I do, the abuse my kayak is subjected to, or the predicaments I get myself in to. I do feel I am in the invidious position, however, to recommend that kayaks subjected to above average use would benefit from adjunctive seam strengthening. This is, however, tempered by the fact that most ‘interior-seamed only’ sea kayaks provide years of trouble free enjoyment for almost all kayaker’s paddling a variety of rough coastlines around the world, and that exterior seamed kayaks, done on the cheap, provide little further benefit. For the ‘do-it-yourselfer’, adding outside seams, prepped accordingly, and done with epoxy resin, add immeasurably to an already well-made kayak. I stake my life on that.