Keeping in Touch from Anywhere: Two Affordable Handheld Satellite Phones for Sea Kayakers

Two companies now offer satellite phones that are not much larger than ordinary cell phones, and prices have come down dramatically. And unlike cell phones, satellite phones can work virtually everywhere on Earth.
According to the Cellular Telecommunications and Internet Association, there are currently over 145 million wireless communication subscribers in the U.S. alone. Given the magnitude of these statistics, a significant fraction of sea kayakers undoubtedly own cell phones. What do these kayakers do with their cell phones on paddling trips? If they’re paddling near populated areas, some may choose to take their phones along to keep in touch with family or to call for help in an emergency. Using a cell phone is often not an option on a paddling trip, however. The very solitude kayakers seek when paddling into wilderness areas frequently means spotty or nonexistent cell-phone coverage.

 

Satellite phones have long been an option for wilderness expeditions of all kinds. Unlike cell phones, satellite phones can work virtually everywhere on Earth. Until recently, they weren’t a good option for recreational sea kayakers due to their high price tag and bulky size. With the introduction of services over the last few years by two companies—Iridium and Globalstar—all that has changed. These companies offer satellite phones that are not much larger than ordinary cell phones, and prices have come down dramatically.

Frequent users can now purchase satellite phones and subscribe to rate plans similar to cell phone plans. Occasional users can rent satellite phones on a weekly basis and pay modest per-minute charges only for the calls they make. Renting a satellite phone and keeping it available only for emergencies can cost less than $75 for a week or $200 for a month, and the cost can be split among all the group members. Professional guides can offer satellite phone use as a valuable and relatively economical service to their clients. Any kayaker who can afford to own a cell phone can probably now afford to rent a satellite phone for the occasional multi-day paddling trip to a remote place. Like it or not, traveling far away from civilization is no longer a good excuse not to stay in touch with a spouse or boss.

A Primer on Satellite Communications

Satellite phones communicate directly with orbiting satellites in space. The satellite acts as a relay station, relaying the signal down to a station on the ground called a gateway. The gateway then routes the call into a standard telephone network.

Satellite phones communicate with satellites in either geosynchronous orbit (GEO) or low-Earth orbit (LEO). Until recently, all satellite phones communicated with GEO satellites, which orbit the Earth at an altitude of 22,238 miles above the equator. In this orbit, they take exactly 24 hours to circle the Earth once—the same amount of time it takes the Earth to complete one rotation. Therefore, from the point of view of someone on Earth, GEO satellites appear to hover motionless in the sky. The high altitude allows each GEO satellite to be in contact with up to one-third of the Earth’s surface at all times. However, to link with satellites at such a high altitude, GEO satellite phones are usually power-hungry and bulky (typically the size of a small briefcase).

LEO satellites orbit the Earth at a much lower altitude of only 1,000 miles or less but have to be much faster; LEO satellites take only about 100 minutes to orbit the Earth. Because of the lower altitude, LEO satellite phones usually require less power and can be smaller than traditional GEO satellite phones. A LEO satellite can communicate with only a small percentage of the Earth’s surface at once and only for a limited amount of time. LEO systems must therefore consist of dozens of satellites in carefully planned formations to ensure uninterrupted coverage, requiring a very large investment to deploy. Since any particular LEO satellite will only be within range of a user for several minutes, they must incorporate complex switching systems to pass phone calls from satellites going out of range to satellites coming into range. Until recently, no one could develop the technology or come up with the investment to make LEO satellite phone systems a reality.

Enter Iridium and Globalstar

In 1998, Iridium launched the world’s first LEO satellite phone service using 66 satellites at a cost of $5 billion. Iridium was followed a year later by a $3.8 billion system of 48 LEO satellites launched by Globalstar. After failing to get the number of subscribers they needed to support their enterprises, both companies filed for bankruptcy. Iridium emerged from bankruptcy in 2001 after a small group of investors paid just $25 million to purchase all the company’s assets. Globalstar is still in bankruptcy, but its investors recently accepted a $55 million offer to purchase the majority of the company’s assets.

The good news for consumers is that both systems still work fine, and now that their operating companies are no longer burdened with significant debt, they’ve slashed prices dramatically. Iridium and Globalstar currently offer the most portable and affordable satellite phones on the market for users in the Western Hemisphere. I tested demonstration phones from both companies over a two-week period while I was kayaking along some remote coastlines in the Pacific Northwest with spotty or nonexistent cell phone coverage.

Coverage Areas

Iridium phones have truly global coverage. They work everywhere from the North Pole to the middle of the Pacific Ocean. They accomplish this feat using intersatellite links. If the satellite a user is communicating with is not in range of a gateway, that satellite will pass the signal on to successive satellites until it reaches a satellite that can downlink to a gateway.

Globalstar doesn’t use intersatellite links. For a call to connect, the user must be within about 900 miles of a gateway. Fortunately, Globalstar gateways are located throughout the world, and Globalstar phones currently work in more than 100 different countries. Globalstar hasn’t established gateways to provide service in the far north or far south (beyond 68° north or south latitude), Southeast Asia, much of Africa or in the middle of the oceans.

Unlike cell phones, satellite phones need a clear view of the sky. They won’t work inside buildings. Large obstructions, such as mountains or buildings, can degrade call quality or even result in dropped calls.

Handsets

Iridium and Globalstar phones are similar in size to handheld VHF radios or large cordless phones. The primary feature distinguishing these satellite phones from cell phones is their large antennas. The antennas fold onto the back of each handset and must be rotated and extended before use.

These phones can handle a bit of rain, but they’re definitely not submersible, so I don’t recommend using them on the water unless it’s an absolute emergency. They are expensive devices, so I suggest storing them in a rigid watertight dry case. If you rent, the dealer may include a custom dry case for an additional fee.

Iridium offers the 9505 phone, manufactured by Motorola. Older models, such as the Motorola 9500, are no longer manufactured but may still be available from dealers for rental or sale. The 9505 weighs 14 ounces and has all the features you’d expect a cell phone to have, such as call waiting, voice mail and memory to store phone numbers. With the antenna stowed, the 9505 measures 6.25 x 2.5 x 2.4 inches. The Motorola 9500 is slightly larger, weighing 16 ounces and measuring 7.5 x 2.5 x 2.6 inches.

Globalstar offers the GSP-1600 phone, manufactured by Qualcomm. It weighs 13 ounces and also has all the features you’d expect a cell phone to have. With the antenna stowed, the GSP-1600 measures 7 x 2.2 x 1.9 inches.

The GSP-1600 works as a digital Code Division Multiple Access (CDMA) cellular or 800MHz analog cellular phone. This gives you the option of using it as a regular cell phone and switching to the satellite network by raising the satellite antenna only when cell phone coverage is not available. Using the GSP-1600 as a cell phone requires a service agreement with a cellular company and a separate phone number and bill. If you rent, using the GSP-1600 as a regular cell phone probably won’t be an option. Iridium no longer enables its phones to be used as regular cell phones.

Making and Receiving Calls

You should have no problems operating either an Iridium or Globalstar phone if you’re accustomed to using a cell phone.

All calls made from Iridium phones are dialed using standard international format. To make a call to a U.S. number, for example, you would enter “001” followed by the area code and phone number. All calls made to an Iridium phone are likewise international calls. To place a call to an Iridium phone from the U.S., you’d dial “011” followed by a 12-digit Iridium phone number. All Iridium phone numbers start with a special country code of 881. This code doesn’t relate to an actual country—it’s just a special access code that tells the long-distance carrier where to route the call.

Dialing rules for Globalstar are the same as landline phones in the country from which the Globalstar phone originates. If you rented or purchased a Globalstar phone from Globalstar USA, for example, the phone would have a standard U.S. number with a Texas area code. To place a call to any U.S. number using a Globalstar USA phone, you would dial “1” followed by the area code and phone number, even if you’re outside of the U.S. To place a call to a U.S. number using a Globalstar phone rented or purchased outside of the U.S., you would use standard international dialing rules.

All calls made from Iridium phones are charged at the same per-minute rate. There are no roaming charges and no surcharges for long-distance or international calls. Incoming Iridium calls are free, but the caller must pay international long-distance rates. If you rent or purchase an Iridium phone, tell anyone who intends to call you to check with their long-distance carrier for the per-minute rate to dial the special “881” Iridium country code. Most major North American carriers charge $2 to $3 per minute to call Iridium phones, but some smaller carriers may charge as high as $11 per minute or may not route the call at all.

Users of Globalstar phones incur roaming charges if they make or receive calls when outside of a home calling area. With phones purchased or rented through Globalstar USA, the home calling area includes the continental U.S., the Caribbean and the Gulf of Mexico.

Call Quality

Voices heard over Iridium had a slightly robotic, synthesized quality. Nevertheless, I could still clearly recognize the people I was talking to by the sound of their voices and had no problems communicating.

Globalstar has a slight edge over Iridium in terms of sound quality: I couldn’t detect any difference between the sound quality of a Globalstar phone and my own digital cell phone.

During the two-week trial period, I did experience dropped calls with both phones. This didn’t happen often. Usually, it happened only when part of the sky was blocked by an obstruction, such as a cliff or structure.

Text Messages and Voice Mail

If you’re kayaking with a satellite phone, the most effective way for others to contact you is to send a text message (called the “Short Messaging Service”). There’s no cost for sending or receiving text messages, and anyone with an Internet connection can send a text message to an Iridium or Globalstar phone by visiting each company’s web site. Once sent, it typically takes 10 minutes for the text message to reach the phone. If the phone is off, you’ll receive the message within a few minutes of activating the phone.

Iridium has the superior text messaging system. Text messages to Iridium phones can be 120 characters in length, and every Iridium phone has its own e-mail address.

Globalstar text messages are limited to only 19 characters in length. Still, this is enough space to send a message such as “Call home ASAP” or some other short page.

Both Iridium and Globalstar offer voice mail, usually for an additional fee. However, your caller will be charged regular calling rates for leaving the message, and you’ll be charged regular airtime rates for checking the voice mail message. Also, if you rent the phone, many dealers ship the phone without voice mail activated or may not offer the service at all.

Battery Life

The rechargeable batteries in both Iridium and Globalstar phones provide talk time similar to that of cell phones. On a long expedition, consider taking along a spare battery. If you rent the phone, many outfitters include a spare battery as part of the package. But even if you have a spare battery, I don’t suggest leaving the phone in standby mode, or you will likely deplete all available batteries well before your trip ends. Turn the phone on only to make calls and check text messages or voice mail. If you adopt this strategy and make only a few minutes of calls per day, each fully charged battery should last for several weeks.

The standard Lithium-Ion battery in the Motorola 9505 provides approximately two hours of talk time or 24 hours of standby time. The standard Lithium-Ion battery in the GSP-1600 provides three-and-a-half hours of talk time or 19 hours of standby time. Higher capacity batteries are available for either unit.

Both phones come with a charger and adapters to plug into wall outlets of different countries. The package often includes a car charger that fits into a cigarette lighter socket. You can also charge your satellite phone with a solar battery charger, but be sure to check with your dealer for compatibility, or you may damage the equipment.

Data Services

Using optional data kits, both Iridium and Globalstar phones can connect with a laptop computer to browse the Internet or to send and receive e-mails. Maximum connection speeds are approximately 10 Kbps (only about 20 percent the data rate of a standard dial-up modem). At this speed, airtime charges can accumulate very quickly. Since this is a much more technical topic and it’s unlikely you’ll lug along a laptop on a kayak trip, I won’t go into any further detail on this capability. Both Iridium and Globalstar’s web sites (listed at the end of this article) have detailed information on the data transfer capabilities of their respective phones.

Rental and Purchase Pricing

For most paddlers, it will make more sense to rent than to purchase a satellite phone. It definitely pays to shop around. I found rental prices on the Internet varying from $40 to $129 a week for the same service. All prices referenced here are subject to change at any time. Prices are expected to come down gradually.

The best rental deals I found were with a company called GMPCS Personal Communications (ph: 954-973-3100; web: www.gmpcs-us.com) in Pompano Beach, Florida. They offer Iridium (Motorola 9500) and Globalstar phone rentals starting at $20 per day or $39.98 per week, including an AC charger and spare battery. Their per-minute rate for outgoing Iridium calls is $1.80. Their per-minute rate for Globalstar calls is $1.59 within the continental U.S. or Caribbean, and their roaming rate is $3.49 per minute. They charge $14.25 for three-day shipping within the continental U.S. The customer is also responsible for return shipping. Best of all, while some dealers charge you from the day they ship the phone until the day it’s returned, GMPCS ships the phone three days before your rental period begins and gives you a grace period of three days to return the phone after your rental period ends. There are many other dealers. If you can locate a dealer in your city (see Satellite Communications in the Yellow Pages), you can escape high express shipping charges by going to the store directly.

If you intend to use the phone for more than three months or you intend to make many calls in a short period, consider purchasing. The retail price of the Globalstar GSP-1600 is around $600, but many discounts are available, and occasionally used units are put up for auction on eBay. You’ll need to pay an activation fee of $50 and sign up for a plan with a 12-month commitment. The plans start at $34.95 per month for 30 free minutes and 99¢ for each additional minute.

Iridium phones and plans are more expensive. The retail price of the Motorola 9505 is nearly $1,400, but again, many discounts are available. I found a limited supply of discontinued Motorola 9500 models available for $850. Like Globalstar, a $50 activation fee and 12-month contract applies. Plans start at $32.95 per month for zero included minutes and $1.49 for each minute. Again, incoming Iridium calls are free.

Iridium and Globalstar also offer prepaid plans. Like prepaid cell phone plans, you can purchase either phone with a bundle of minutes valid for a set period of time (such as 12 months) rather than a monthly plan. This may be a more cost-effective option for some users, such as those planning to use the phone on several different trips but not needing the phone in between those trips.

Which Phone is Best?

The choice between an Iridium or Globalstar phone depends on how and where you intend to use it. If you intend to stay almost exclusively along coastlines in your home area (for U.S. residents, this includes the continental U.S. and the Caribbean), Globalstar is probably the more economical choice. Globalstar also has a slight edge in sound quality, and anyone trying to reach you only needs to dial a regular U.S. phone number.

On the other hand, while Globalstar charges higher roaming rates if you wander out of your home area, Iridium rates are the same regardless of where you go. Iridium also has a superior short messaging service. More important, Iridium phones work virtually everywhere. If you’re looking for a satellite phone to take to the South Pacific, for example, Globalstar currently can’t help you, but Iridium will work fine. Globalstar also has spotty coverage in Alaska and no coverage in Hawaii. Check the Globalstar web site for a detailed coverage map, or ask a dealer.

Whatever phone would work best for your trip, you no longer have to be completely out of touch when you paddle far away from civilization. Satellite phones obviously won’t appeal to all kayakers. For some, getting as far out of touch as possible is one of the principal motivations for paddling into remote areas in the first place. But for others, the ability to talk to loved ones back home or to call for help from anywhere in the event of an emergency will be a great comfort on kayaking expeditions.

Just don’t tell your boss you’ll be available by phone.

The Power-Face Reverse Sweep

There are often times when you need to get your kayak turned quickly. You can paddle backward on one side of the kayak and then forward on the other, but that approach takes a lot of strokes and time, and it requires shifts in balance that could be especially difficult in rough water.
I discovered an effective turning technique that combines a high-brace turn with a transition to a reverse sweep as the kayak slows. Because the power face is used for the reverse sweep, I call this technique the Power-Face Reverse Sweep. The high-brace position provides good support-even with an extreme lean to make the kayak pivot faster-for a strong, quick, and effective turn that works well in both rough water and surf conditions. I often use the Power-Face Reverse Sweep in surf to make quick turn-arounds, especially if I am trying to get turned around to catch a wave. This stroke is also very useful when I am leading groups or classes, and need to turn around quickly to check on someone.
This technique flows easily and naturally from the high-brace turn. I find that the combination works best if the high brace is initiated well toward the stern. As the kayak slows, tighten your abdominal muscles and rotate your torso to bring the paddle forward through the water (just as you would in performing a standard reverse sweep from a low-brace turn). The difference is that the paddle is held in a high-brace position with the wrists cocked back so that the Power-Face of the blade is used for the sweep.

The blade begins nearly flat on the water, at only a slight planing angle to keep the blade from plunging. As the torso rotates and brings the paddle forward through the water, the angle of the blade changes, becoming nearly vertical by the time the paddle is perpendicular to the kayak (again, just as in a standard reverse sweep). The planing angle can be adjusted throughout the stroke for greater support, as necessary.
With the support provided by the stroke, you can lean the boat easily throughout the turn: the greater the lean, the quicker the turn. At the end of the arc, as if doing a sculling stroke, uncock the wrists to rotate the paddle so that what was the trailing edge becomes the leading edge. Now skim the blade, power-face down, back over the water toward the stern. Then cock the wrists to rotate the paddle, and sweep forward again. Repeat until the turn is completed.
Like the low-brace turn with a standard reverse sweep, the high-brace turn with a Power-Face Reverse Sweep is a braking turn-that is, forward momentum slows, then stops after the turn is initiated.
The stroke does not have to be preceded by a high-brace turn to be effective. If a high-brace turn (which assumes forward momentum) is used to initiate the maneuver, the brace and sweep result in a braking turn and will stop you; but, the turns are often nearly 180 degrees, so I am reversing direction anyway, in most cases.

What about turning from a full stop? So far I’ve described the Power-Face Reverse Sweep only in combination with a high-brace turn, which requires forward momentum; but, like the reverse sweep, the technique is a useful turning stroke by itself-an alternative to, not a replacement for, the reverse sweep. The paddler is simply doing a reverse sweep from a high-brace position, gaining greater leverage and greater support than in the low-brace position.
When repeated multiple times, the technique has some similarities to sculling for support. Both share a figure-eight motion but, in this sweep, the figure-eight has little depth and is far more elongated: As the blade nears the bow, the stroke becomes a bow pull from a high-brace position, causing the bow to side-slip in the direction of the turn. At the end of the sweep, a wrist flick flips the paddle blade over as it leaves the water, and the trailing edge again becomes the leading edge. Instead of coming back into the water, however, the blade skims lightly over the surface toward the stern to start another sweep.
Once you have the kayak pointed in the direction you want to go, you can easily make a transition to a forward stroke at the end of the sweep-similar to the bow draw/forward stroke combination-to get the kayak moving again in the new direction.
I am surely not the first paddler to have hit upon this technique, although I haven’t seen the technique presented as such in any class or publication. I have seen different elements of it presented by different instructors, but not the technique as a whole or as a stand-alone stroke. I’m not sure why-it seems too useful to overlook.
See what you think. With some practice, depending on the kayak, you should be able to reverse the direction of the kayak in three or four strokes. You should find that, even with quite a bit of lean, you have great support, you are in a strong recovery position, and the turn is quick and reliable, even in rough water. It’s also fun. Give it a try.

With the kayak underway, the paddler reaches aft with a high brace. He leans out, supporting his weight with the paddle and setting the boat on edge for a tight turn.

The paddle comes forward through the water as the paddler unwinds his torso. Here, the forward sweep is complete and the paddler has uncocked his wrists and started skimming the blade, power-face down, toward the stern.

 

 

The paddle blade has skimmed aft while the kayak remains on edge. The paddler has begun to drop his wrists to set the paddle blade more vertically in the water for the next sweep.

The kayak continues to turn around as the next sweep pushes forward. To complete a 180° turn, the paddler would repeat the last three steps shown here.

Olympus Review

The feature list for the Olympus Stylus 1030 SW reads like a kayaker’s wish list for a digital camera: 10.1 megapixels, a 3.6x (5-18.2mm or 28-102mm in 35mm) optical zoom that’s sealed behind glass with a built-in lens cover. It’s also shockproof to a two-meter drop, crushproof to 220 pounds and waterproof to 10 meters. The zoom’s wide end—28mm—is quite a bit wider than the 33-38mm (35mm equivalent) typical of most point-and-shoot cameras. To top it off, the 1030 SW is the size of a deck of cards and fits easily in a PFD pocket.

The camera is powered by a proprietary lithium-ion battery and is compatible with xD flash cards, and, with a supplied adapter, microSD cards. The battery and card go under separate gasketed covers. The camera lacks an optical viewfinder, so you have to compose shots with the 2.7-inch LCD display. Control buttons on the back are neatly arranged for right thumb operation. There are two zoom buttons, a mode dial, and a four-way controller with four more buttons at its corners. The controls are simple enough, but it’s best to get to know the camera before you get on the water. The icons and labels are tiny and can be difficult to read.

The camera offers seven size options for still pictures in jpeg-only format, from 3648×2736 all the way down to 640×480. It also shoots AVI video with options for size and frame rate: 640×480 or 320×240, and 30 or 15 frames per second. One thing to note: Older xD cards limit the 30f/sec video to 10 seconds. The newer xD M+ or H cards record video until the card fills up (About 18 minutes of continuous video at the highest quality for the 2GB xD M+). An ISO range from 80 to 1600 can be selected from the menus. I shot in Program mode most of the time, which allows some adjustments like exposure compensation. The camera also has an Auto mode, where the camera makes all the decisions, and a “Digital Anti-Shake” mode, which varies the ISO to yield sharper (but noisier) picture in low light. I liked the live histogram, which shows the range of tones and alerts you to blown-out whites and filled-in blacks before you take a picture. In most digital cameras this feature is available only after you shoot.

I tested the camera’s resolution by comparing it with a 10.2MP digital SLR at equivalent focal lengths on a tripod. Not surprisingly, at 100 ISO, resolution (the camera’s ability to discern fine detail) was better on the dSLR, but the difference wasn’t huge. Digital noise—those random, snow-like color variations, especially seen in shadows—was greater with the 1030 SW, more like it would be at 400 ISO on a digital SLR. Some areas of the images, especially skin tones, look like noise reduction has been applied in-camera even at 100 ISO, a feat of digital smoothing that made me look 10 years younger! In any case, the images printed well, and even an 8 x 10 print from a 1600 ISO image looked fairly good, though somewhat “snowy.” In general, I got crisp, sharp pictures by shooting handheld with the zoom at the wide end. On the telephoto end of the zoom, some hand-held pictures weren’t sharp at 100 ISO. A higher ISO or a tripod would be useful for telephoto shots. This camera surpasses the point-and-shoot weatherproof film cameras of yore, and with a steady hand or tripod, is suitable for 8 x 10 or even 11 x 14 blowups. 

A built-in lens cover opens automatically with start-up. The lens is located in an upper corner, which means you can get a finger in the shot if you’re holding the camera with two hands. At first I didn’t like that—it’s too easy to get a fingertip in the picture—but the offset lens location helps for shooting with one hand and lends itself to a variety of secure handholds you may come to appreciate. The Macro mode for close-ups is excellent, with a super Macro mode capable of filling the frame with creatures like sea slugs as small as an inch across. The Macro focus is fast and doesn’t “hunt.” The camera’s built-in flash offers the typical four flash modes: Auto, Red-eye, Fill (always on) and Off. Built-in memory has room for only three images in top-quality mode. For comparison, a 2GB card yields 410 images.

On the Water 

The camera fits easily in a PFD pocket, but will sink like a stone in water. The supplied wrist strap is too short by itself for shooting tethered to a D-ring inside a pocket, so I added a line long enough to shoot at arm’s length. I found that with gloved hands I couldn’t feel the back buttons, but I managed to navigate the buttons and shoot anyway without much difficulty. Start-up time is fast, faster than the time it takes to lift the camera to shoot. Pushing the shutter halfway, the camera beeps loudly and the LCD flashes a green rectangle when the image is in focus. The sound is easy to turn off if you find the beep annoying or want to photograph shy critters.

Focus is fairly fast outdoors in daylight. It slows down a lot in evening light or in deep shadow, but in these situations you’ll probably want a tripod. There is a noticeable, though short, shutter lag if you point the camera and shoot, but by holding down the shutter button halfway to acquire focus, when the shutter is fully depressed image capture is quick, and I couldn’t detect any lag.

The LCD is bright—it beats almost anything I’ve used for viewing outdoors—but reflections off the LCD can block your viewing, so at times you may have to move or tilt the camera to see the image. The lens glass has a cover that retracts on start-up, giving reassuring protection when not in use. On salt water, I worried about salt crusting on the lens, but a shake and inspection before returning it to the PFD worked pretty well. Olympus recommends a rinse or brief soak in freshwater after use in salt water. Whatever coating Olympus puts on the lens, water drops after submersion are tiny. I did get a couple tiny drops from paddle splash. The drops were difficult to see and mostly didn’t show on subsequent shots, but it’s wise to check the lens during and after shooting and carry some Q-tips and a drop of alcohol to keep it clean.

A 12-second time delay is set by pushing the bottom of the mode dial twice, then set. This is simple enough, but the delay has to be reset after each shot. I would much prefer a delay that stayed on until you choose to turn that feature off.

Conclusion

The Olympus 1030 SW provides no-worries photography when shooting with wet hands, in bad weather or plunging the camera over the side for underwater shots. It’s simple to operate, and it fits in a PFD pocket. The 10.1MP resolution and the waterproof, shockproof and crushproof body lead the category. All that I have left on my wish list is the option to use AA batteries for long trips, and an interval timer or remote control. Perhaps some day, but for now the Olympus Stylus 1030 SW is a winner. The 1030 SW comes with rechargeable battery and charger, wrist strap, Olympus Master 2 software, USB and video cables and a one-year warranty.

Telkwa by Rainforest Designs Ltd

Telkwa Design Statement : The design of the Telkwa, which means “where the waters meet,” was a collaborative effort between Steve Schleicher of Rainforest Designs and Don Lockwood of Comox Valley Kayaks. Don provided input on what paddlers wanted in a touring kayak: appearance and performance characteristics based on dealing with paddlers at his retail store. Steve melded Don’s input with his knowledge of what makes a kayak perform and designed the Telkwa. Its lines are aesthetically pleasing, and it boasts comfortable initial and reassuring secondary stability. Moderate rocker with careful distribution of volume fore and aft allows the Telkwa to track well and be suprisingly nimble for a kayak of its size. The seat is very comfortable and easily adjusts to fit a variety of paddler sizes.
The Telkwa line has been expanded to include the Telkwa HV (high volume) for the larger paddlers or the paddler requiring a larger storage capacity; and the Telkwa Sport for the smaller paddler wanting a closer fitting cockpit and a slightly more nimble performer. 
Steve Schleicher 


Reviewers: 
DL 5’10”, 180-pound male. Pool session. Day trips in winds from 15 to 20 miles per hour and waves from 2 to 22/2 feet.
TE 6’1″, 200-pound male. Day trips. Conditions from light winds and ruffled seas to winds to 25 m.p.h. and waves to 22/2 feet.
KB 6’2″, 208-pound male. Several day trips, no cargo and with 100 pounds. From calm to winds at 18 knots and waves 12/2 to 2 feet, occasionally to 22/2 feet. 

Telkwa Review 
The Telkwa has an “excellent appearance with no visible imperfections…superior workmanship” (DL). The hull and deck are joined with fiberglass tape “cleanly applied on the inside and immaculately finished on the outside” (KB).
TE thought it was a heavy lift, but it balanced well for a solo carry. DL and KB didn’t find the weight objectionable. The placement of the forward toggle is at the tip of the bow, good for controlling a rolling boat in surf.
The recessed deck fittings are stainless steel rods that span depressions in the deck, providing plenty of room for bungies and cords. There are bungies for gear and a spare paddle and a combination tow/grab line forward. The paddle-float-rescue straps are webbing with buckles. “Instead of pinching the buckle to release it, you grab a knob with a loop of webbing that pinches and releases the buckle. The arrangement offers a quick release and a more solid attachment than bungies” (TE).
The cockpit is “wide and long, making entry and exit very easy for large paddlers. In fact, the opening may be large enough to rule out this kayak for medium-sized and small paddlers” (KB). The cockpit was long enough for TE to get in seat first then feet: “In rough water I could get in cowboy style without a paddle float.” “The boat in front of the cockpit is roomy enough for taller paddlers with large feet, [yet] sleek enough to allow for vertical paddle strokes” (KB).
The thigh bracing is provided by foam padding and the contoured recess of the coaming. KB had to splay his legs to make good contact with the thigh braces. TE suggested “putting in thigh hooks to get a more comfortable purchase with my legs.” A mesh-covered contoured foam seat can be adjusted fore and aft over a range of 8″. For DL it wasn’t a good fit, but KB and TE thought it was comfortable. The seat back is very comfortable and easily adjustable. Lateral support in the seat is provided by a set of mesh-covered foam pads that can be adjusted to add up to three layers of foam.
The rudder pedals provided spongy foot bracing. The rudder can pop out the slot that it stows in if a rudder pedal is pushed hard, “unfortunate because the Telkwa’s hull responds well to leaning and edging and paddle strokes that are most efficiently executed with firm foot braces” (KB). The Feathercraft rudder works well, and, when retracted, will find is own way into the slot when the rudder pedals are wiggled a bit. “The boat works so well without the rudder that I preferred not to have it deployed” (TE).
“The Telkwa has very solid stability” (TE). KB suggested that paddlers “with a focus on paddle skills may prefer a kayak with lower initial stability in order to more effortlessly edge with their upper bodies erect. Paddlers who can hold the Telkwa on edge will find that it’s fairly maneuverable. Not sporty, but it does well for its size” (KB). “It takes a hard lean to get it to carve a turn, but once you’ve reached that point the stern swings around quickly” (TE). The Telkwa has “excellent tracking” (KB). It “goes where you point it. It holds a course nicely without the rudder. It is well suited for course holding and long passages” (TE).
While KB and DL noted that the Telkwa wouldn’t be their choice for racing or a workout boat, all agreed that the Telkwa is “plenty fast for cruising. Holding a four-knot cruising speed would be quite reasonable for a strong paddler” (KB). KB held a speed of 5 knots over a six-nautical-mile course. TE averaged 4 1/2 knots at a cruising pace and could do short sprints at 6 knots. “The Telkwa provided a dry ride in any conditions I encountered. When punching into head seas, its sleek front deck beautifully shed green water without throwing spray towards my face” (KB). Only DL mentioned having some spray thrown up when paddling into a head wind.The Telkwa performed remarkably well in keeping to a course in the wind. “I may never have paddled another kayak of [comparable] size that’s easier to handle in the wind. It hardly seemed affected by the wind on any heading” (KB). “One of the best balanced boats I have paddled. A pleasure to paddle in the wind” (TE).TE’s comments on surfing echoed those of the other reviewers: “The Telkwa has the speed to catch waves but, without the rudder, tended to veer. While the broaching was slow and easy to control, I didn’t like missing the ride. With the rudder I could very easily hold onto waves. When running downwind I could make very good speed picking up rides.”The Telkwa’s cargo capacity makes it “a good boat for extended trips” (DL). KB wrote he’d “have no problem packing the Telkwa for a three-week trip.” In addition to the storage compartments in the bow and stern, the large hatch openings make it easy to stow gear in the bulkheaded compartments. The fiberglass lids are flush with the deck and, underneath, the hatches are sealed with neoprene covers. DL reported about a cup in each compartment after a pool rolling session. TE and KB reported no leaks during their trials. The Telkwa’s fiberglass bulkheads are molded with a lip that provides a groove to hold caulking and a flange for glassing the bulkheads to hull and deck.With a 100-pound cargo load aboard, KB “was amazed by how little the load affected the performance. I actually preferred the feel of the Telkwa under way when it’s loaded. Gear hauling is definitely this kayak’s forte.”As a cruising kayak, the Telkwa drew high praise. “With the exception of a couple of easily remedied flaws—rudder locking and thigh bracing—the Telkwa is an exceptionally comfortable kayak to paddle. I was quite impressed by its balance in the wind. The hull and deck perform so well that it would be worth the effort to do some custom outfitting” (TE). “Excellent on extended trips where large volumes of gear had to be hauled” (DL). “It may not be a super-sporty high performer but it does what you need it to do well. It hauls gear and handles exceptionally well in the wind” (KB).Design ResponseThanks for taking time to consider the merits of our kayak. Your reviewers confirm the design goals in creating the Telkwa—a moderately high volume cruising kayak for the medium to large paddler. It would be quite interesting to also have the comments from a slightly smaller paddler as quite a few purchasers are a bit smaller than your reviewers.The biggest design problem for a large-volume kayak is performance in the wind. As noted by your reviewers, “the Telkwa performed remarkably well in the wind.” Another performance characteristic is the ability to catch and surf even small waves. The boat really makes good time in this circumstance but you have to expend a bit more effort for the extra fun.Your reviewers noticed the fine finish and detail in our vacuum-bagged construction and assembly; we spend extra time and effort on our outside seams. The weight of the Telkwa is a function of the size of the kayak and the fact that we use a bit more fiberglass material to ensure our kayaks’ durability. If weight is a real concern the Kevlar laminate knocks off about eight pounds.We have improved the paddle float rescue straps since the boat was reviewed. They are easier to tighten ad easier to use with cold hands. The seat base can be easily modified by removing the inner foam padding form its mesh cover and trimmed to make a custom fit. Alternatively, add a Sport Seat between the foam pad and the mesh cover with the valve sticking to the side and deflate until comfortable. Take care not to change the stability when doing this. A new deeper and easier-to-center rudder slot is planned for the 1998 version to eliminate the problem of the rudder coming out of the slot under pressure from the foot pedals. We are also considering offering a fixed footbrace/rudder control as an option. A new ergonomic toggle will also soon be available.The Telkwas is, as described in the review, a cruising kayak: it’s comfortably stable in all conditions, it carries plenty of gear, it’s plenty fast, it tracks well and it’s surprisingly nimble for such a large kayak. And we feel it’s one of the best-looking a kayaks on the water.
Don Lockwood and Steve Schleicher

Options and Pricing 
Designed:
 1995
Standard Layup: Uni-directional and woven fiberglass, vacuum bagged with vinylester resin. Fiberglass seams and kevlar-reinforced bow and stern.
Optional Layup: Kevlar
Standard Features: Creature Comfort Seat, recessed flip-up rudder, recessed deck fittings, quick-release paddle float rescue straps, chart holder & stern deck storage lines, flush hatches, under foredeck storage tray, bulkheads, easily adjusable foot controls
Weight: 61 lbs (56lbs in Kevlar)
Price: Glass $2290 US/ Kevlar $2665 US
Availability: 
through selected dealers
Manufacturer’s Address:
Rainforest Designs Ltd.
P.O. Box 91
Albion, B.C. Canada V0M 1B0
Phone: (604) 467-9932
Fax: (604) 467-8890

Sun Protection for Paddlers

Planning on getting out to paddle in the great outdoors this summer? Hoping for clear, bright weather and endless sunny days? Fantasizing about the bow of your faithful kayak cutting gracefully through idyllic calm water, the sun’s warm, glorious rays bouncing off the glassy surface and shimmering around you? Then again, are you planning on living a long, healthy life? There are a few things you might want to know about the effects of sunlight before you head out onto the water.

Back in the “good old days,” nobody ever really worried much about sunburn. Indeed, until recently, it was not uncommon to see sun-worshippers slathering baby oil and other slick lotions onto their exposed skin, in an attempt to magnify the tanning effects of the sun’s rays. Unfortunately, the good old days are a thing of the past. We now know that ultraviolet A radiation (UVA) in sunlight can pose serious long-term health risks.

The Skin Cancer Foundation states that during the past ten years the number of cases of malignant melanoma, a potentially fatal skin cancer, has increased more rapidly than any other type of cancer. The American Cancer Society received reports of over 50,000 new cases of skin cancer last year, with a likelihood that many more cases went unreported. According to Martin A. Weinstock, M.D., Ph.D., Chief of Dermatology at the Providence (R.I.) Veterans Affairs Medical Center, the number of skin cancer cases is roughly equal to all other types of cancer combined.

Those of us who spend time on the water are particularly vulnerable to ultraviolet exposure not only because we spend time outside, but also because of the highly reflective quality of the water upon which we paddle. This is especially true when the water is calm, and there are no waves to scatter the sun’s reflection. Indeed, a calm, reflective water surface can nearly double your radiation exposure, and make such preventive measures as a sun block, sun hat and proper sunglasses particularly important. UV intensity can be high even on cloudy days, and this can be true all year round, not just in summer.

A is for aging, and B is for burning
Too much UV exposure contributes to mutations in skin cells, as well as the loss of collagen, the element of the skin’s structure that prevents sagging, wrinkling, splotching, leathering, dryness and spider veins. While the shorter-wave UVB rays are responsible for the common sunburn, it is the longer-wave UVA that can cause premature aging by damaging the elastic fibers of the skin. UVA can also wreak real havoc by suppressing the immune system, causing keratoses (freckle-like precancerous lesions), squamous- and basal-cell skin cancers (the non-deadly types), and melanoma.
There are, however, measures that paddlers and boaters of all kinds can and should take to help prevent premature aging, sunburn, and skin cancer.

Protective clothing
Aside from avoiding the sun altogether, perhaps the most effective method of minimizing UV exposure is to wear appropriate clothing. Start with a good sun hat with at least a medium-broad brim. The hat will help prevent the sun’s rays from contacting some of your most UV-vulnerable places-your eyes, ears and face. A hat will also keep you cool on a hot day and warm on a cold one. Also essential are long-sleeved shirts, and long pants to protect your legs when out of your kayak, lounging on the beach.
Clothing made especially for sun protection is available from some outdoors stores, swim shops, catalogs and online. Some garments list a Clothing Protection Factor (CPF) rating system similar to the SPF system used for sun screens. Most UV-resistant clothing is made of polyester fabric, which is by far the most effective at blocking UV radiation. Sun-blocking cloth is tightly woven to further prevent rays from getting to the skin. Avoid cotton, as it is the least effective fabric for sun protection, even if it is tightly woven. It also absorbs and holds water, diminishing its ability to block sunlight and leading to the potential for hypothermia.

Sun Blocks
Sun blocks protect the skin by reflecting both UVB and UVA radiation away from the skin. Until recently, sun-wary paddlers using sun blocks were easy to pick out of the crowd. They wore layers of white paste on their noses and lips in order to stave off UV radiation. Some new sun blocks use a micro-fine form of zinc oxide-known as Z-Cote®-which is transparent when applied to the skin. SkinCeuticals and All Terrain are two companies offering products that provide all of the protection of a sun block without the muss and fuss of a sticky and unsightly paste. The sun-blocking ingredients remain inert on the skin and are hypoallergenic.
Sun block should be spread on liberally and evenly, paying particular attention to more vulnerable areas such as neck, face, ears, and the backs of your hands (very important for paddlers). Apply a fresh coat every two to three hours.

Sun Screens
Most sun screens contain chemicals that absorb-and therefore help protect the user against-UVB radiation. Some of the ingredients in sun screens metabolize (break down) on the skin, and may cause allergic reactions.
The SPF (sun protective factor) rating on sun screens is calculated by dividing the time it takes to produce redness on skin protected with sun screen by the time required for unprotected skin to turn the same shade of red. In theory, if you use an SPF 10 sun screen you can stay in the sun ten times longer before burning. In actual practice you ought to use a product with a SPF of 15, 30 or higher, but don’t lull yourself into thinking you can loll indefinitely in the midday sun! Some researchers believe that a false sense of security resulting from the use of screens is contributing to the rise in the incidence of skin cancer. Although the use of many common commercial screens can help prevent sunburn and reduce the incidence of lesions (precursors to malignant melanoma) and non-melanoma skin cancer (the non-deadly types), they are not necessarily effective in protecting the skin against deadly malignant melanoma caused by UVA exposure.
The SPF rating system applies to UVB only, so no matter what rating the sun screen carries, only broad-spectrum screens absorb both UVB and UVA. If you choose to use a sun screen, buy a broad-spectrum product with the highest SPF you can find and apply it liberally and often.

Sunglasses
UV exposure has been linked to cataracts and macular degeneration-eye diseases that can cause partial or total blindness-as well as other less serious but irritating ophthalmological problems. Buy glasses labeled as 100% UVB- and UVA-protective, and select glasses with a wraparound lens style, to help protect against reflected and oblique rays. UV coatings can easily be added to corrective eyeglass lenses. Some contact lenses are available with a UV blocker, but contact lens wearers should wear sunglasses for additional protection. UV light can penetrate clouds, so don’t resort to using sunglasses only when the sun is out.
Cheap sunglasses can do more harm than good by causing pupils to dilate and be subject to increased penetration of UV rays. Wear a retaining strap with your glasses so they are less prone to loss and damage: Scratches reduce the effectiveness of the protection offered by lens coatings.

Exposure
Forget sunbathing -choose another recreational activity. (Avoid artificial tanning devices, too. The lamps used in many tanning parlors emit high levels of UVA.) Avoid exposure between the peak sun hours20:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m.-especially during the summer months. Choose a shady spot for lunch or midday breaks from paddling. If most of your life is spent indoors, don’t rush out and immediately soak up harmful sun rays at the first sign of summer. Some sun exposure is required for basic physical and psychological health, such as the production of vitamin D, but don’t overdo it. Even on cloudy days, up to 80 percent of incoming UV is able to reach the earth’s surface, and your tender skin.

Your skin is your largest organ! If you are an avid kayaker or outdoors person, take a few simple precautions to protect it against harmful UV radiation. That way your skin will serve you well for many years to come, doing what it does best: regulating your body temperature, storing needed fats and water, and protecting you against heat, injury and infection.

 

Intrepid by Pacific Water Sports

Intrepid Design Statement 
The Intrepid touring sea kayak is designed to be paddled efficiently at fast touring speeds, carry a moderate gear load, handle well without a rudder and be neutral in the wind. The upswept native-style ends are still low enough to shed the wind, while the shallow rocker and long waterline give tracking and speed. The flare and volume in the forward quarter provide lift going into waves and a dry ride in sloppy conditions. Combined with the low-volume stern, this also gives predictable handling in following seas.
The Intrepid is available in a low-profile model for smaller paddlers and with two seat styles.
It comes standard with bulkheads fore and aft with a third bulkhead optional. A lockup rudder is also optional. Since sea kayaking offers many challenges, the kayak should not be one of them. Like my other designs, the Intrepid is easy to use compared to other kayaks of similar performance.

Lee Moyer


Reviewers: 
KN5’7″, 125-pound female. Day trip in calm conditions.
GL5’11”, 165-pound male. Day paddles, conditions from calm to 25-knot winds and 1′ chop. Empty and with 100 pounds of gear.
TE 6′ 1″, 200-pound male. Winds 10 to 18 miles per hour, waves 1 to 1 1/2 feet with slight whitecapping.
 Intrepid Review:
The Intrepid is “a very attractive kayak with a solid-feeling deck, smooth lines and attractive recessed hatches. The reinforced glass work in critical areas indicates some attention to detail” (GL). “All edges and seams were nicely finished and smooth to the touch. The overall feel was one of solidity and good craftsmanship” (KN). TE and GL both noted that the middle of the hull oilcanned when pressed hard, though not while afloat. 
“A solo carry was surprisingly easy. [The Intrepid] was very well balanced at the middle of the coaming” (GL). “The weight was reasonable for its size. I could get it on my rack without difficulty” (KN). For a tandem carry there are webbing straps at the ends of the boat. 
Forward of the cockpit are two cleats and a bungie for “parking” a paddle. Two cleats farther forward secure a bow painter that can double as a rescue grab line. Aft of the cockpit there is a day hatch and a flat-bottomed recess for stabilizing the boat with a paddle while getting in and out on the beach, although there is no provision there for a paddle-float rescue. There is an extra pair of straps on the aft hatch that could serve to secure a deck load or a spare take-apart paddle.
“The cockpit opening is large enough to get into butt first, then feet, for a quick cowboy rescue. In the foot well there is just enough room for a pair of size 12 water sports shoes”(TE). 

The fiberglass bucket seat is removable for use on the beach. It is “very comfortable with good lumbar support. The fit encourages a feeling of stability” (KN). The backrest is a self-inflating fabric-covered foam pad. “For straight paddling, the seat was comfortable throughout a five-hour paddle” (GL). The seat back is below the level of the coaming so it doesnÕt get in the way of reentry. TE noted,though, that “the coaming aft is high enough that I could only do half of a layback before having my back come in contact.” The seat provides some lateral support, though it does not offer a convenient spot for adding customized hip padding for a tighter fit. The thigh braces “fit and functioned very well, and the foot braces performed solidly and are easy to reach and adjust from the cockpit” (GL). The Intrepid reviewed was not equipped with a rudder.
“The IntrepidÕs initial stability is comfortable enough without being too stiff to set the boat on edge to initiate a turn. The secondary stability is excellent. It felt solid even when edged to the point of putting the side of the coaming in the water. A good combination for maneuvering the boat” (TE). GL thought the secondary stability was fair, and noted that the lack of hip bracing and having the seat slip 1/4 inch laterally in its brackets made the boat feel less secure when set on edge.
The Intrepid is “a straight tracking craft” (KN). “It has little yaw at the bow when paddling forward on an even keel” (TE). “Steering with leaned turns was excellent in calm conditions” (GL). “The boat will initiate a turn with a slight lean and then make a sharp turn when put high on edge” (TE). 

KN found the boat “easy to get going and maintain moderate speed.” GL thought it “moderately fast.” For TE, “it seemed to be capable of a brisk cruising speed and a respectable, though not extraordinary sprint.”
The forward hatch is set in a recess to reduce spray from water coming over the bow. A “dry ride except going straight into the wind, when a moderate splash would come up over the bow” (GL).
“Pretty easy to manage in the wind I encountered. There was only a wee tendency to veer into the wind, and I found that an almost unconscious correction by edging kept the bow on line” (TE). “Well balanced for wind. No weathercocking” (GL).
“On wind waves I could easily get enough speed to catch rides. The boatÕs strong turning ability when on edge helped keep the bow pointed down the face of the wave” (TE).

In spite of the good thigh and foot bracing, GL thought his loose fit in the seat caused him to slip out of position and miss a roll. KN found the Intrepid easy to roll, as did TE, though the height of the aft deck kept him from getting close to the aft deck for a lay back roll. Reentry into the large cockpit opening was easy. 
There is ample stowage in the three bulkheaded compartments, enough for weekend and week-long cruises. The two tethered plastic hatch lids have rubber gaskets and are held in place with bungies. The aft hatch is large enough for easy stowage of bulky items. After rolling, TE noted 1/2 cup of water in the forward compartment, GL found a cup in the forward compartment, and a drop or two in the day hatch. No other leakage was reported. 
The bulkheads are all curved panels of translucent fiberglass. The bulkhead at the aft end of the cockpit runs along the aft side of the coaming, making it easy to completely drain the cockpit by lifting and turning the bow.
GL thought the Intrepid was a “good-looking kayak with good speed and plenty of stowage for long trips. Plenty of stability for fishing or photography.” The Intrepid would be “a swell beginner to intermediate kayak because of its stability and maneuverability. It is a fun boat! It does a fine job of doing what it is designed for” (KN). “The Intrepid is an appealing boat.
I enjoyed almost everything about it. It seems quite capable of handing the work of cruising while it is also a quick and responsive day paddler. I could recommend it to novices as well as experienced paddlers. It would certainly be a good first boat that a paddler could enjoy right off the bat and continue to enjoy as his skills developed” (TE).


Designer Response
Thanks for the kind words. Concerning some of the small details: We do not include rescue bungies because we have never considered them to be positive enough. We have an optional paddle-float rescue system of rope and cleats we believe is much more positive and is easier to set up while you are laying on the kayak, out of the water. The bow line can also be rigged as a rescue sling. As the shock cord at the hatches ages and loosens, it can be easily re-knotted to tighten the seal of the hatches if leaks develop. GL and KN would find that the Low Profile Intrepid fits better, is more secure and is easier to lean and lay back on the roll. TE may have to leave his size 12s behind if he tries it, though. The Intrepid is also available without the third bulkhead and hatch for several pounds and $150 less. Lee Moyer


Options and Pricing
Designed: 
1998
Standard Lay-up: 
Standard Lay-up: Hand-laid glass with vinylester resin. Hull: 3/4-oz. mat, 8-oz. cloth, 17-oz. roving with end reinforcements. Deck: 11/2-oz. mat and 8-oz. cloth with reinforcements. Extruded vinyl hull/deck seam glassed inside.
Optional Layups:Kevlar.
Standard Features: 
Bucket seat, foot braces, deck lines, bow line, three curved fiberglass bulkheads. Cargo hatches fore and aft, day access hatch. 
Optional features: 
Rudder. Hung seat. Lower profile model is available.
Approximate Weight: 
52 lbs.
Price: 
Manufacturer’s suggested retail $2,450 
Availability:
From manufacturer. Call for the nearest dealer.
Manufacturer’s Address:
Pacific Water Sports
16055 Pacific Highway South
Seattle, WA 98188
Phone: (206) 246-9385
E-mail: [email protected]
Website: www.pwskayaks.com

Only this faint stirring in the air remains: the whisper of ancients only a generation past. They were still here, clothed in skins, dancing in igloos, beating on drums, walking the ridges, and spearing caribou at river crossings, when I was a young boy learning to ride a tricycle in a Boston suburb and John Kennedy had a decade yet to live.

Humanity is a whisper here. Here caribou breast the landscape in antler-bobbing streams. Here musk ox pound craters in the snow with their chins to reach winter grass. Wolverines and Arctic foxes scent through the mosses after small prey—lemmings, tern eggs, hares. Sandhill cranes court one another on low bedrock ridges with stick-figure decorum. Here a wolf plunges its face into the hot entrails of a caribou calf. Here winds comb the stiff-grassed tundra with restless, rough, currying fingers. Humanity is elsewhere, gone away, sloughed off to the coast like the draining rivers taking their load of sand. Starved out, decimated by smallpox, swindled by the fur trade, and seduced by religion, rifles, whiskey, sewing needles, sedentary comforts. That old story. That old story no one wants to hear and I don’t want to tell. A story that makes my bones heavy.
Only this faint stirring in the air remains: the whisper of ancients only a generation past. They were still here, clothed in skins, dancing in igloos, beating on drums, welcoming the first birds of spring, walking the ridges, and spearing caribou at river crossings, when I was a young boy learning to ride a tricycle in a Boston suburb and John Kennedy had a decade yet to live. I have met them. Grandmothers who clean hotel rooms in places like Rankin Inlet and Baker Lake but who, as young girls, pounded strips of caribou into dry meat and competed with the foxes for birds’ eggs. Old men who return to the land once or twice a year by powerboat or snowmobile to shoot caribou with .30/30 rifles but who, as young boys, paddled skin kayaks and carved snow blocks to build igloos.
And on the land, the swell of northern land, a crescendo of teeming emptiness, I have had the company of their whispers.
At a windbound camp on Kamilukuak Lake, when I stoop down to pick up a piece of weathered driftwood, I find that it has been worked, fashioned to some purpose—weapon, tool, piece of boat frame. My hands run over the surfaces painstakingly crafted by other hands, hands separated from mine by an unimaginable gulf of circumstance, yet focused on the same smoothed stick.
Or paddling across Angikuni Lake toward the outlet of the Kazan River, there on a low, broad ridge stand a series of inukshuk, the rock cairns built across the treeless terrain to signify trails, caribou crossings, campsites and graves. Their human-like profiles pluck at the corners of my vision. Again and again I turn to them, expecting to see one raise an arm in greeting, to see another break into a run.
Again, in the Thirty-Mile country, when we stop for lunch and there are half a dozen tent rings, rock circles that once weighed down the edges of caribou-skin shelters. I lie in the center of one, on ground that cushioned the sleep of an Inuit family, a man and a woman, children: people, I think, satiated with the land. I think that because scattered everywhere on the ground are old caribou bones settling into the sphagnum.
Or on a wave-washed rock beach along the shore of an unnamed lake, where a low pile of rocks, full of gaps and crevices, hunkers just above the high-water line. Inside, the gleam of bones. A human femur, rib slats, the top of a skull. Gray lichen feathers around the cranial sutures.
We were here, it all says. We lived here. In our way, we flourished in this immense scarcity. We made love on this ground, bore children in this tent. We stood, just here, looking across the same blue-seamed space, knowing that space. We wrestled dead willows to kindle our fires. We stooped over grizzly tracks in the sand. We lit moss wicks steeped in caribou tallow to flicker against the winter night. We listened to the singing ice in the fall and thought of the meat cached away in permafrost crannies. And always we awaited the caribou, watching and listening and scenting for them every day, and dreaming of them by night.
Once, when we stopped for a stretch and a break in the all-day paddling rhythm, a flat bench part way up a ridge draws us to it. We turn to take in the view. At our feet, sunken in the ground, are foreign pieces of wood. Foreign, because there is no wood anywhere for many miles. We haven’t seen a tree more than head high in a month. The driftwood we make our fires from is the thickness of our fingers. The only trees are wind-twisted, ground-hugging spruces, barely waist high. This is real lumber, six-foot lengths, one-by-four boards, and once we spot it, a litter of it snaps into focus all around.
At first the wood appears milled, finished with precision machinery. I pick up a lichen-encrusted board and see, close up, that it is actually rough-hewn, almost perfectly turned, but done by hand. On the inside surface is gouged a row of evenly spaced, angled divots. The cross pieces cut to match those divots have fallen almost exactly in place. They still fit neatly. In fact, laid out there on the ground, fallen apart yet in a recognizable shape, as if a carpenter had set out the pieces of a project, each in its approximate position, is the frame of a kayak.
These bits of wood may have been collected and passed on for generations. A well-turned cockpit coaming would have been an inheritance worth marrying for. There is not a screw or a nail anywhere. Whittled pegs still protrude through holes drilled out with a primitive bit. The curved boat ribs, the support pillars, the long sides, the keel, all are there among the moss campion and short, bristly grasses.
It is as if a carpenter had fashioned all the parts of a project, set them in place, and then never gotten back to it. Or—and this comes to me as I stand there in the summer warmth with black flies pinging against my forehead—it comes looming up out of the whispering past with the certainty of a true and real story—it is as if an Inuit man, a hunter of caribou, had paddled his skin-covered craft up against the same sloping shore where we beached.
It is a fall day in this story. The lake is black and choppy, the sky lowering, the wind like shafts of ice. Flecks of spray have frozen like candle wax where water splashed up on the deck, on the sleeves of his skin parka, on the leading edges of the wooden paddle blades. A young boy ducks out of a skin tent and runs to join the man onshore. Together they lift the boat and carry it up to the flat, protected elevation. They pause, with the kayak at their feet, and look across the dark water. A thin snow scuds across their view.
Winter comes. The long twilight, then true darkness. The lakes freeze like plates of iron. It is a starving season. The fall caribou hunt was a marginal success. Hunters waited at the time-honored crossings, hunkered behind rock blinds, but the deer never came. Only a few meat caches are full, and the wolverines pillage one of those. The oil lamps run dry. People sit in a dark stupor, in semi-hibernation, for days at a time. Sickness visits the camp; people wither and shrink. A young woman dies in childbirth. Elders walk out of the igloos in the night and don’t come back. Late in the season, still months from spring, the people abandon camp and straggle toward the wan hope of a distant fur-trading outpost.
Spring arrives. The ice rafts up under the lash of wind. The sun is buoyant, high in the sky. Birds fill the open water; gravid caribou push their way toward calving grounds. The kayak rests patiently on the island. Its decay is a slow, gnawing dissolution made up of freeze and thaw, chapping winds, chewing rodents, the insistent settlement of fungus and moss and lichen. The stretched skin goes first, that thin organic layer, drying to parchment; then the sinew thread in its small, tight, meticulous stitches. Rodents den up in the hull and raise young. A two-year-old herring gull perches for much of a summer at the tip of the bow. Bird droppings, fish bones and eggshells litter the ground. The sun desiccates the exposed wood. Every winter the snow drifts over the boat, forming a white burial mound. Water fingers into the cracks and then freezes, prying the boat open.
When the young boy who helped stow the kayak after its final outing is a father with children, a man who lives in a prefabricated plywood house in Chesterfield Inlet and whose bad dreams writhe with emaciated ghosts, the first board drops loose. The next winter a peg falls out. The hull surrenders its form to the erosion of time and gravity and chance. The wood, precious and rare, settles its small weight into the tundra, and moss rises up around it.
We place the pieces of boat frame back into the perfect molds on the ground. My hands tingle with this communion, paddler to paddler. I have been out long enough that the lift of waves under boat hull is a sensation branded into my nerve synapses. I have felt the same cords of river current bending past rocks, dropping over ledges, eddying along shore as this paddler did. I have hunched down against the same implacable winds roaring across a plain of water. I have paddled into the midst of grunting strings of caribou swimming at a blue narrows, felt the close thrill of their straining bodies. I stand, now, in this paddler’s footprints and look out across the blue expanse, the gray, distant hills, the patches of snow that linger, even in August. When we paddle away, I notice the feathery contrail of a remote jet in the cloudless sky.
Alan Kesselheim is a freelance writer in Bozeman, Montana. This essay is an adapted chapter from his fifth book, Threading the Currents, now available from Island Press of Washington, D.C.

New Generation Survival Suit

Back in our early days of Campfire Girl and Cub Scout camping trips, a simple sheet of plastic was recommended for an emergency shelter if you got lost. High-tech, lightweight heat-reflective sheets commonly known as “space blankets” have long since replaced simple plastic in the “ten essentials” emergency kits of mos t wilderness traveler. Those of us on the cutting edge may even have upgraded to those newfangled survival sacks-essentially space blanket material formed in a sleeping bag shape that the modern-day survivor can snuggle into instead of just wrapping around.

Get ready for the next step in the evolution of emergency shelters: The Extreme Survivor Thermal Protection from MGI International Marine Safety Solutions is a space blanket you wear. At a mere six ounces, the suit folds down to only slightly larger than a blanket of the same material (7″ x 10″), but its heat-sealed seams form a roomy, one-size-fits-all hooded jump suit that is rated to -20 degrees Fahrenheit and is advertised as being Canadian Coast Guard-approved.

Baggy is “in” this survival season, and the eye-catching international-orange Extreme Survivor, sporting a reflective strip across the forehead, is the garment to be seen in for this year’s well-dressed survivor. Overall, we found the Extreme Survivor was a fine piece of safety gear with one obvious advantage over emergency blankets or sacks: you can walk around in it-build a fire, pick berries, signal to a search plane, what have you. But don’t walk very far. The Achilles heel, perhaps, is the sealed foot area (somewhat like those one-piece pajamas you wore as a kid); even a short stroll outside our house quickly wore holes in the thin material. This problem can easily be avoided, however, since the material is thin enough that your feet should slip easily into even the snuggest booties while wearing the suit, assuming of course that in your rush to dive into shelter in a real-life emergency, you have the presence of mind to remove your footwear first. Otherwise you’ll have to take the suit completely off to get out of your shoes. It should be noted, however, that holes in the feet would probably have little effect on the suit’s efficiency in most situations where frostbite of the feet isn’t a danger.

Although intended to be large enough to fit over a PFD, the survival suit comes in a size that could be a problem for any big and tall paddlers. Our larger reviewer (a muscular and strapping 6’2″ and 185 pounds) had enough room, but if you have difficulty, say, fitting into a typical kayak, you’d be wise to try on the suit ahead of time. One other potential problem we noted was the closure system. Well-designed to be easy to don, the suit has a large, easy-entry opening, running from the navel to the throat that has several Velcro tabs to seal out the elements. Gaps between these “buttons” would be more likely to let in rain and cold than a gapless strip or “zipper” of Velcro.

Kayakers should also be warned that this is not a suit to wear while paddling. Rather than keep out the cold in a capsize, the suit would flood with water, making swimming or rescue nearly impossible. But on land, in a wilderness emergency, this is a superior piece of survival gear. Sure, you may pony up several times the price of a typical space blanket, but how much would you willing to pay to be the best-dressed survivor in camp?

Lyme Disease: How to Avoid It

Lyme Disease (LD) is the number one tick-borne disease in North America. While it is found in 48 states, it is most threatening to paddlers and other outdoor enthusiasts in the northeast, from Massachusetts to Maryland, the upper midwest in Wisconsin and Minnesota, and in California. The disease is caused by the spirochete bacterium Borrelia burgdorferi, which is carried by the western black-legged tick (Ixodes pacificus) on the Pacific coast, and by the black-legged tick, commonly known as the deer tick or bear tick (I. scapularis), in the upper midwest, the northeast from Maryland to Maine and throughout Florida. Both kinds of ticks live two years and pass through three life stages after hatching from eggs. In early spring, newly hatched larvae ingest the LD bacterium when they take their first blood meal on white-footed mice. The larvae then molt into pinhead-sized nymphs that transfer the disease to humans from late spring through mid-summer. In the fall, although the adult ticks can still transmit LD, they are larger and easier to see and remove, and are less likely to attach to passing humans.
Ticks climb the branches and stems of low bushes and tall grasses until they reach the tips of the leaves and blades of grass. There they wait for unsuspecting paddlers to come thrashing through the thickets on their way to the highest bluff or the most perfect place to eat lunch or make camp. I once walked through a thicket on Cape Cod, Massachusetts, and looked down to see an army of deer ticks marching up my sleeves and pant legs. A friend of mine, Don Betts, told me of a similar experience he had on an island in Narragansett Bay, Rhode Island. We were lucky; we saw the ticks. Lyme disease has become prevalent in areas where white-footed mice and large populations of white-tailed deer live. A scientific study in Massachusetts found that, over seven years, 35 percent of 190 residents living near a coastal refuge with an abundant deer population had contracted LD. Among the residents nearest the refuge, 66 percent had the disease.

Symptoms
The best early marker for LD is a red rash-like ring around the site of the original bite, which can appear anywhere from three days to a month after the bite has occurred. The ring starts small, but then spreads outward to six inches or more in diameter with a less inflamed center. Other early LD symptoms may include fatigue, fever, headache, stiff neck, muscle and joint pain, inability to concentrate. Unfortunately, nearly half of all LD victims do not exhibit the bull’s-eye rash. More than half of LD victims are unaware that they have been bitten until symptoms appear weeks or months later, but even then, they may think they have the flu. Advanced cases of LD may result in severe arthritis, or cardiac, neurological and other symptoms severe enough to require hospitalization. Some victims have been diagnosed as having rheumatoid arthritis and other diseases, only to find out later that it was advanced LD.

Treatment
LD has been hard to diagnose because laboratory tests have often given either false-positive or false-negative results, which have then been used as the basis for treatment decisions. If caught early, LD is easily treated with antibiotics such as tetracycline. Doctors in regions where LD is prevalent are now more willing to start antibiotic treatment based on observed symptoms and circumstances instead of basing their decision on the outcome of laboratory tests for LD. (Using antibiotics to treat someone without LD is less serious than failing to provide treatment when it really is LD.) Advanced LD is very serious and very difficult to treat. Treatment of advanced LD may require prolonged oral or even intravenous administration of antibiotics. The debilitating effects of LD and the threat of repeated annual cycles of infection and antibiotic treatment have been powerful arguments for development of an LD vaccine. Note that while doctors in the endemic areas keep on the lookout for LD, doctors in inland regions who treat a patient who went paddling in one of the endemic areas would be unlikely to look for LD.

Prevention
The best plan is to fastidiously avoid going into high grass and brush. Wear light-colored, long-sleeved shirts and long pants that can be tucked into your socks. The ticks are black or dark brown and nymphs are the size of a pinhead or a period at the end of a sentence. They are quite hard to see on dark clothing, so it helps to wear light-colored clothing. Shoes and clothing may be sprayed with either tick repellent DEET (diethyl-m-toluamide) or Permethrin, but care should be taken not to spray directly on skin. Use a 30 to 35 percent DEET solution for adults and a maximum of 10 to 15 percent for children. DEET must not be used on babies. Be sure to read and follow the directions on the product you purchase. The instructions on a can of Permethrin state that you must spray the clothing outdoors and then wait at least two hours before wearing it. After a ramble in the brambles, both one’s body and clothing should be closely inspected for ticks. I have been bitten by ticks that were hiding in pants or shirt seams I had put on again after I thought the clothes were tick-free. Since then, clothes I wear outdoors go into the wash before being worn again. The good news is that if you find an imbedded tick and remove it within the first 24 hours, it will not infect you with its cargo of LD bacteria. While the nymph-stage tick is the size of a pinhead, the adult is about 1/16-inch long. When a tick feeds, the abdomen enlarges, and it becomes much easier to see. Tick removal is not effectively done with one’s fingers. To remove a tick, use fine point tweezers to grasp its head and gently pull it out. Do not squeeze the body of the tick, cover it with petroleum jelly or burn it to try to remove it.

Vaccine
There is good news on the tick front. Late last year, the FDA gave final approval for commercial release of the first-ever vaccine for LD. The new vaccine, LYMErix, by SmithKline Beecham, is approved for persons 15 to 70 years of age. It is administered first when LD is suspected and followed with another dose later, with a final dose a year later. xAfter two doses it is 50 percent effective; it reaches its maximum effectiveness-79 percent-after the third dose. Thus, it won’t make us safe this year, but those choosing to use the new vaccine will be able to start the new millennium with a high level of resistance to LD infection. How long such protection will last is unknown at present. Trials are currently in progress on children ages 4 and older. Observed side effects to the vaccine include some redness and swelling around the injection site, flu-like symptoms, and some joint and muscle pain. Side effects generally disappear within three days. The viability of the vaccine is not affected by whether or not the patient has been previously exposed to LD. The series of three vaccine doses costs around $240, and may be covered by some health plans in areas where LD is endemic.
Even if you elect to take the vaccine to prevent LD, you must still make an effort to avoid being bitten by ticks, as they can also carry human babesiosis (Babesia microti) or human granulocytic ehrlichiosis (HGE). Studies have shown that ticks often carry combinations of these diseases. HGE, also treated with antibiotics, develops more rapidly than LD, and causes flu-like symptoms including fever, headache, muscle aches, chills, nausea and vomiting. HGE can be life threatening and must be treated promptly.

A Series of Capsizes:A strong whitewater paddler discovers that his river experience didn’t prepare him for a rough coastal crossing

My wife Gabby and I have often paddled to Lopez Island in Washington State’s San Juan Islands with friends or as part of club events for the Washington Kayak Club. The southern coastline of Lopez is beautiful and is a place where you can be lulled into overlooking the risks of kayaking there. It is a place I enjoy, but I don’t take it lightly.

To get from the mainland to Lopez, you have to cross Rosario Strait. Even on the strait’s best days, kayakers need to be wary of shipping traffic traveling the middle of the strait and of currents caused by the ebbing tide. When the flow of a strong ebb works against a southerly wind, the waves jack up until they spill their crests with a hiss that you can hear from a hundred yards away.

In April of this year, I helped lead a group of 14 sea kayakers on a paddling trip organized by the Washington Kayak Club. We assembled at Washington Park in Anacortes, and our plan was to cross Rosario Strait, paddle along the south end of Lopez Island and go on to San Juan Island. At the end of the 21-mile, one-way tour, we’d roll the kayaks aboard the ferry for the return to Anacortes.

We were all wearing dry suits and most of us were carrying safety gear such as VHF radios, towlines, extra paddles, dry clothes, first aid and helmets. In compliance with the standard we set for signing up for the trip, the kayaks all had perimeter lines and flotation provided by two or three watertight compartments. I had communicated to my co-leader, Lisa, that I thought 9 A. M. was a good launch time; however, she had published 8:30 A. M. on the club website to ward off any unexpected last minuters.

The group members were skilled sea kayakers, with experience ranging from a few years to more than 15 years. Some were British Canoe Union (BCU) 5 star, and some were 4 star. One had been paddling whitewater for nearly 20 years and was also a skilled sea kayaker. Another had led major journeys in remote regions and was considered an outstanding paddler and trip leader by his peers. One paddler, Andy, was the exception. He had a background in paddling whitewater in open canoes and had been transitioning into whitewater kayaking over the past year. He had also been on several sea kayak trips—casual trips, alone or with friends and family—but those outings had all been in calm conditions.

The National Weather Service forecast the day of our trip was for winds in the area to be from the south at 10 to 15 knots and for wind waves from one to three feet. The Smith Island station reported winds out of the south at 12 knots. The water temperatures were around 46˚F, and the air temperature was in the mid-40s. Rain showers were expected. The ebb was predicted to peak at 2.6 knots at 9:23 A. M., and the ocean swell on Washington’s outer coast was reported to be six feet at six seconds.

While Lopez Island is 80 miles from the open coast, the Pacific swell can travel east along the Strait of Juan de Fuca and have an effect on the south end of the island. We wouldn’t know if that was going to be the case until we rounded the southeast corner of the island. Looking out across Rosario Strait prior to launch, I saw that the water was rough, but there were no whitecaps. Our goal was to ride the ebb across Rosario to the south end of Lopez, traverse its south coast, then catch the afternoon flood tide as we crossed the San Juan channel and ride it north to Friday Harbor on San Juan Island.

I gave a short talk emphasizing group cohesion, particularly in Rosario Strait, where shipping, rips and waves are all threats. We launched and got off to a good start, keeping the gap between the fast paddlers and the slow to a manageable distance. We saw a tug and barge coming up Rosario, but we had already drawn abreast of Bird Rocks at the edge of the shipping lanes and would be well clear of the tug when it passed by us.

We had finished the crossing of Rosario just north of Cape St. Mary, Lopez’s easternmost point, and planned to land for a short break in Watmough Bay a little more than a mile beyond the cape. Andy was lagging behind—the crossing had left him feeling nauseated from -seasickness.

Andy: “I didn’t know what to expect as we launched that morning, but I was gung ho to the point that I ignored several red flags. For starters, the weather conditions were worse than predicted, and I was immediately uncomfortable in the boat I had borrowed for the trip. As we set out across the choppy channel, I had tight hips and an increasingly queasy stomach. I convinced myself that I would establish a comfort level any minute and there was no need to turn around. I rationalized that, as a beginner, I wasn’t responsible for navigation and all I had to do was paddle and keep up with the group, which didn’t seem overly ambitious. Unfortunately, conditions got worse and so did I. The waves got bigger and my sweep stroke proved inadequate to combat weathercocking. I became seasick to the point of being disoriented and used a lot of energy to focus on keeping upright. Even though I was slipping into a survival mode, I told myself that I had to go through this to learn about sea kayaking and I just needed to remain calm.

In the back of my mind, I was waiting for the waves to stop and was thinking that if I could get a break from the rocking my nausea would disappear and I’d be fine. I was used to paddling rivers, where I’d often have to ratchet up the intensity level to navigate a particular rapid but where it’s also possible to relax, at least for a moment in an eddy, before tackling the next drop. In Rosario Strait, there was no relief from the side swells.”

Lisa and Gabby were close by Andy and offering support. Lisa gave him some crystallized ginger to help ward off nausea. I asked Brent, one of the paddlers closest to Andy and a BCU 5-star sea paddler and Coach level 2, to keep an eye on him in case he needed more assistance. As predicted, the waves in Rosario Strait were rising to about three feet and were breaking in the tide rips along the east side of Lopez. Andy was not comfortable and began to lock up. His visual awareness had narrowed to a steady gaze over the bow, and he was stiff in the torso and was paddling mostly with his arms. I could hear a tone of discomfort in his voice.

The tide race at Kellett Ledge northeast of Cape St. Mary had been made active by the ebb current, and the main group steered toward quieter water west of the green can-buoy marking the underwater ledge. One paddler went directly through the race for play.

In the chop between the ledge and Lopez, Andy capsized. He didn’t roll up, but he had the presence of mind to stay in the kayak and wait for a bow rescue.

Andy: “I made a few weak attempts at rolling. Gabby had been about 15 yards behind me, and I knew she had to have seen me go over, so I waited for a bow rescue. She made it to me in time for me to pop back up with the assistance of her deck.”

Brent came alongside Andy at the same time and helped him get righted. Andy was quickly back up without having to do a wet exit. Brent spoke with Andy briefly and called out to me that Andy needed to get to shore to regain his equilibrium. The nearest place where we could land appeared to be a private beach where the owners were watching us from their deck. Landowners in the San Juans and sea kayakers aren’t always on the best of terms, and I was reluctant to risk a conflict. I also thought of the impact two stops along the route could have on a trip that was scheduled around tidal currents. I asked Andy if he thought he could make Watmough Bay, a mile around the bend, and he said he could.

Halfway to the bay, Andy capsized again in a patch of rougher water south of Cape St. Mary. Andy has a well-practiced roll from whitewater kayaking, but on this day, it failed him.

Andy: “My strength was being sapped—especially following my first frigid dunking—and the waves only got bigger. I eventually hit a wall and became reliant on others for my well-being. I had little strength and adrenaline left when I hit the water a second time. I tried to roll again, but I had little hope that I’d be able to get upright on my own. As before, there was a kayaker paddling next to me, so I waited for him to approach. Unbeknownst to me, he happened to be looking toward the shoreline at the time and didn’t register that I had capsized only a few feet away from him. After about 10 to 15 seconds of waiting, I did my wet exit. Finding myself swimming in the frigid chop was alarming, but it was instant relief from my nausea. I was suddenly clearheaded, but I quickly realized that I had no clue about how I was going to extricate myself from what was suddenly a pretty sticky jam. Luckily somebody else knew.”

Andy swam to the bow of Brent’s kayak and worked with Brent on a T-rescue. The wind was about 10 knots and pushing them toward the rocks on Cape St. Mary. I asked Will, a paddler with lots of experience in open-coast touring and on expedition whitewater trips, to put a towline on Brent’s forward perimeter lines and keep the two boats off the rocks. Clipping the towline to Brent’s bow allowed Brent the freedom of maneuvering Andy’s kayak to complete the rescue. With the rescue complete and Andy back aboard, we got underway for Watmough Bay. We landed at the beach at the head of the bay. All in the group were present.

I checked on Andy again, and he said he felt better and was determined to go on. Scott, a 15-year ocean and river paddler with whom I’ve taken some substantial trips, gave Andy some Dramamine. We knew it would be a couple of hours for it to take effect, so I handed him some ginger tabs for more immediate relief. Andy said the capsize had left him a bit wet and cold—his dry top had a hole in the neck seam of the gasket. He took off the wet layers of clothing, and I gave him a dry fleece top and additional layer of fleece pants from my stash of dry clothes.

I suggested to Andy that if he felt at all in doubt of his ability to make the journey, he could walk or hitchhike to catch the next available ferry landing on the north end of Lopez. Andy said he felt he would be just fine getting back in his kayak and continuing with the trip. I told him the most dangerous part of the journey was crossing Rosario, but the water ahead on the south coast of Lopez Island could be as choppy as what he had passed through. I also told him that after we rounded Watmough Head and Point Colville, there would be at least three bays where he could get ashore if he felt overwhelmed by the conditions.

Andy: “After the break, I was warm and dry. I had downed two energy bars and a liter of water. The nausea had subsided, and Rob and I discussed options. He intimated that after an initial patch of rough seas, things would likely get easier—or at least that’s how I interpreted it. With my ignorance of sea navigation, I mistakenly rationalized that the channel would likely be the roughest part of the trip, and now that I felt better, I thought I had the strength to continue.”

After launching from the beach, the group rounded Watmough Head and encountered waves averaging three feet and breaking, sometimes exceeding four feet with a period of about three seconds. Sometimes paddlers in our group, and even their paddle blades over their heads, disappeared completely from view.

Andy made it around Watmough Head and past Point Colville, but he was struggling to stay upright. The waves around the point were the biggest we had encountered, and the paddlers were keeping their distance from each other to avoid collisions.

Andy: “Back in the boat, my hips were tight and the swells were twice as big as before and half as predictable; to me it was as hectic as paddling in a washing machine or trying to balance on a slackline in a tornado.

“Gabby asked me to warn her if I began to feel sick again, but it all went downhill pretty fast once we rounded the horn of the island. I began to really struggle with trying to sweep my bow to counteract weathercocking, and I felt unstable at every effort. The more I concentrated on digging at the right point on the wave to maintain balance, the sicker I began to feel. I told myself that it was vital to relax and loosen up, but the conditions proved too tough for me to cope with. Before long, steering seemed impossible, and my perspective narrowed dramatically. Waves were all I could see and feel, up and down from random directions. I stabbed desperately at the water with what little strength I had left.”

A short distance beyond Point Colville, Andy capsized for a third time.

Andy: “Once I hit the water, I was done. I was too tired to even try a roll.”

He waited several seconds for a bow rescue, but no one was close enough to get to him in time. Andy did a wet exit and came to the surface holding onto his paddle and boat. While he remained composed enough to hang onto his gear, I could see there was fear in his eyes. Gabby did a rapid T-rescue to get Andy back aboard his kayak, then stabilized Andy while he refastened his spray skirt. Their two kayaks bumped and slapped together in the steep chop. Will clipped a towline to Gabby’s bow and started towing. Dan, a BCU 5-star paddler with a solid whitewater background, thought that Will’s Greenland paddle didn’t seem to have enough bite to pull the rafted kayaks away from the cliff, so he clipped onto Will to help him. The pair towed Gabby and Andy away from the rocky point. A large wave split Gabby and Andy up and bowled both of them over.

Andy: “My memory after the third capsize is a bit hazy. Gabby assisted me, and I got back in my boat. I think I pumped most of the water out, but I’m not sure. The chop was really unpredictable, and I was pretty sick. As we bobbed, I tried to secure my spray skirt with both hands while the swells jerked us around chaotically. Every time I was about to get the skirt on, a wave would rock us and I had to brace on Gabby’s boat. Unfortunately, I’m much bigger than Gabby, and my balance was compromised, quite possibly by a partially flooded boat. By far, the worst moment of the entire ordeal for me came when I dragged Gabby into the drink. I tried to let go of her boat in time, but it was too late, and suddenly it was a two-swimmer -rescue.”

To free her hands to hold on to Andy’s boat, Gabby had tucked her paddle under her deck lines. She couldn’t roll without her paddle, so she bailed out. Andy also did a wet exit. The rescuer, Dan, turned back to the capsized kayaks and, in spite of the rough conditions, managed to begin the rescue again. When the wave that had caused the double capsize hit me, I leaned into it with a firm paddle brace. It surfed me about 50 yards from the group around Andy. Dan filled in the details.

Dan: “I was looking back and saw Gabby and Andy separate and swim. I dropped my belt off since it was clipped to Will’s bow. Will was clipped to Gabby, so he just backed up to her. I went after Andy and got him back aboard. Andy moved out under his own power with Lisa staying close by, so I went to retrieve my tow belt. Andy went over again, so I abandoned my tow belt search and went to rescue him a second time. I got him to my bow and dumped the water out of his boat. He got back aboard but leaned away from me and fell out of the cockpit. I told him to go to my bow again, dumped the water out of his boat, got him back in, and he fell out again. This time, I got him to just lean onto my boat across his boat and stuffed his feet into his cockpit. Since others were around, I figured I could just hold him up and he could pump out the cockpit to stay warm. As he pumped, he kept leaning outboard, so I told him to prop himself up on my boat. By the time Rob hooked up to tow us, Andy looked pretty frazzled.”

When I had paddled back upwind to the rescue site, Will had already helped Gabby get back aboard her kayak and Dan had assisted Andy. Lisa was standing by ready to lend a hand as needed. I told Dan he was going stabilize Andy. I yelled for them to hold each other’s deck lines and not let go. Their kayaks were bucking wildly, and despite their laying over each other’s decks, I found it extremely difficult to wind the snap hook from my towline under both deck lines of their kayaks, so I joined them both and tried to free my line from the towline bag. The position I was in had my torso compressing the flap to the bag, preventing the line from paying out. Dan shouted, “C’mon, Rob—get us outta here!” Finally I freed the rope and proceeded with the tow.

Andy: “Dan saved the day as far as I’m concerned. I was trying as hard as I could to help him out, but I had nothing left physically. My boat was filled with water, my balance was shot, and we just kept getting hammered. I think I was mentally focused better than I would have expected considering the external factors. When I was in the water, I got popped in the face by the stern of Dan’s boat. I was so intent on following Dan’s instructions, that I barely registered the shot I took. In fact, I completely forgot about it until Monday morning when my wife asked me why I had a black eye. It took me half an hour before the memory came back to me.

“I was worried about Gabby, my hypothermia and even, oddly enough, ruining the trip. I did my best, however, to concentrate on Dan’s instructions amidst all the commotion. Dan proved very adept at handling the circumstances and making the right things happen. He was concise and decisive and easy to follow. I was aware that he had pumped my kayak out, but I have no idea how he had done that. I wasn’t much help, but Dan rose to the occasion. At least I didn’t panic.”

I struggled to get the boat turned toward a cove we had just passed. Will clipped onto my bow and helped pull us the long 100 yards around the point into the cove. Close to shore, the waves abated; when I was several yards from the beach, I unclipped as Will hit the beach and tossed the tow belt bag, landed and dragged my kayak up the rocks. I waded out to bring Dan and Andy ashore. Gabby and Lisa followed us in and landed quickly.

Aside from Gabby, Dan, Will, Lisa, Andy and me, the remainder of the group had made it past Point Colville and surfed in the following seas between Castle Island and Lopez Island, and eddied into a small, moderately protected cove. Brent paddled across the current over to Castle Island, exited his boat and watched multiple capsizes and rescues in progress. The rest of the group, unaware of the difficulty we were having, landed in McArdle Bay to await our arrival.

Later, Brent and Leslie—a strong, BCU 3-star paddler—paddled back past Point Colville to find us. After we landed, we tried hailing the forward group on the radio to no avail, even though they were less than a mile away. The steep shore was blocking the radio signals. As Brent landed, we tried again. No luck, even after mounting the cliff top. We discussed options.

It was clear that Andy was exhausted after his multiple capsizes. After we got him ashore, I asked him a series of questions to assess his mental state and the possibility for hypothermia. He was clear and coherent with his answers, and I did not believe he was in its grip. We gave Andy a hat, a storm cag, a cell phone with my cell number keyed in, cash (he’d left his wallet in the car) and Will’s Garmin GPS to use as a map to get him to the ferry landing. We would tow his kayak back to the Washington Park launch site.

Brent returned to Castle Island where he could relay radio messages to the group at McArdle Bay. With communications reestablished, we made the decision to have everyone rendezvous at Point Colville, then retreat across Rosario at the change in the tides.

No one had a cockpit cover to close up Andy’s kayak, so we tied a garbage bag to the coaming and put Andy’s neoprene spray skirt over that with the waist tube closed up with two zip ties. Will took the first leg of towing the kayak. The north-flowing flood was predicted at 1.65 knots, and the wind was fairly steady out of the south at 10 knots, with some gusts going over 15. The crossing was slightly rougher than the initial crossing but not really difficult, although whitecaps were far more prevalent. Dan took the second leg of the kayak tow, and two hours after we had begun the eight-mile crossing, we landed back at Washington Park. Andy arrived by ferry at 5:45 P . M .

Lessons Learned

Andy has been paddling for many years, but he stated that, “In the river, the rapids usually end—here they go on forever.” The prolonged exposure to rough water made him seasick, which caused his balance to fail and made him prone to capsizing. In retrospect, as a group leader, I should not have had Andy join the trip. I have paddled challenging Class III whitewater with him, and he is cool under fire and usually performs well, but his competence on whitewater was not indicative of how he would fare after several hours of rough water. Andy thought he had the skills to do the venue, although he too had no way of knowing how a long rough passage would affect him.

Andy: “I am trained as a rescuer and a leader in other outdoor pursuits, so it was a humbling experience to be in a situation where I was the person being rescued. I’ve chastised myself for not recognizing my limits and being more prepared. I learned that as a novice, it can be hard to know what constitutes a dangerous situation. Rivers are relatively easy to scope out ahead of time, and conditions on them stay fairly constant. With sea kayaking, conditions may look manageable at the start, but they can get dicey in a hurry. I realized only after it was too late to turn back that I had bitten off more than I could chew. Fortunately, the one prudent choice I’d made that day was to paddle with a group of people that would keep an eye on me. My next step is to enroll in a basic sea kayak paddle-and-rescue class so I can be better prepared for my next trip to the San Juans.”

With the 46˚F water, immersion apparel was required on this outing; Andy’s dry suit kept him from getting badly hypothermic or requiring assistance beyond our resources. We used the towlines repeatedly and had the benefit of the warm spare clothes we kept in our dry bags. Lisa and I both had ginger available to relieve Andy’s nausea for the short term, and Scott was able to supply him with Dramamine for longer term relief.

We had all of the equipment we needed to cope with the capsizes. We used our VHF radios for communication within the group, but at Point Colville, our transmissions were blocked by the terrain. Having simple but useful things like garbage bags and zip ties allowed us to make up for our leaving cockpit covers at the put-in and seal the cockpit for towing an empty kayak. Andy and Gabby used their pumps for removing water from their cockpits. Andy was given more warm clothes, cash, directions and a GPS unit to make his walk to the ferry more successful. Gabby had been chilled slightly by her wet exit, but she wore her storm cag over everything for the return trip and was quite comfortable. Most of the time, the amount of gear our club trip leaders and participants carry looks like overkill, but there was no question that we were prepared to work through this incident.

Judgment is the first way to keep safe, but failing the initial decision of having Andy along, our training in rough conditions was essential. The rescues off of Point Colville were very much like the rescues I trained for in BCU 5-star sea trainings and assessment. Being prepared for multiple mishaps in big, fast water with wind driving onto the rocks was really useful. Knowing multiple towing scenarios and having the composure to perform the rescues quickly was essential. Dan, Gabby, Will and Lisa have all practiced rough-water rescues together and could work effectively when circumstances required.

I typically lead paddling trips where there are only a handful of paddlers whom I know I can count on to perform well under stress. Before embarking, I make sure that there are enough resources in the group to deal with any foreseeable emergency. Several paddlers had surfed ahead at Point Colville, but they made the first available landing to wait for the rest of the group.

It’s difficult to keep many paddlers of varying ability together to make an outing safe and fun for everybody, but the leader must be able to do that. Skilled paddlers should be distributed throughout the group so that, in the event that a group gets separated, each resulting group should be self sufficient.

I tell the groups I lead that in the event of a rescue: “If you are not part of the solution to the problem, do not make yourself part of the problem.” After the separation of the group in the following sea conditions off Point Colville, the forward group showed excellent discipline in banding together to await instructions from the leaders. They had significant resources to deal with any of their problems, and we had enough to deal with ours. None of the kayakers in the vicinity of the capsizes got in the way while the multiple rescues were conducted. Finally, it was a good thing that everyone in the group made sure that things were sorted out when the group was divided. Had the forward group gone ahead with the original plan in the absence of the others and radio communications, responding to the capsizes would have been much more difficult. Sea kayaking in exposed waters can be dangerous, and quickly executed rescues can make all the difference. Practice pays off in time saved and risk reduced.

Rob Gibbert is a hazardous location lighting consultant, BCU 5-star sea paddler, whitewater rescue technician and an avid paddler of oceans and rivers. He lives with his wife, Gabrielle, in Gig Harbor, Washington.

Kap Farvel by Rainforest Designs

Kap Farvel Design Statement:The Kap Farvel came about in response to a request from our Japanese distributor for a day-touring, Greenland-style kayak. The Kap Farvel was conceived as a day paddling boat with the capacity to be used on weekend trips. The design is quite stable in spite of its narrow hull, because the thin ends and lots of rocker increase the draft and lower the paddler’s center of gravity. The Kap Farvel has recessed deck fittings, flush hatches, bulkheads and no rudder. It can easily be controlled with paddle strokes and boat lean. The small cockpit, low deck and low volume make this a small-to moderate-sized paddler’s boat. The Kap Farvel will reward skilled paddlers with its performance, but other paddlers will also enjoy paddling it.

Steve Schleicher
Rainforest Designs, Nimbus Kayaks


Reviewers:KN5’7″, 125-pound female. Day trip in calm conditions with boat wakes.
KC5′ 7″, 140-pound male. Day paddles, conditions from calm to light winds and one-foot waves.
SN 5′ 8″, 160-pound male. Day paddle in winds to 20 knots, wind waves to four feet.

Kap Farvel Review:

The reviewers liked the look of the Kap Farvel: “The upswept bow and stern, combined with the narrow, streamlined hull, give the boat a sleek and graceful appearance”(KC). The seams and bulkheads show “excellent craftsmanship,” noted SN, though he found two small bubbles in the gel coat on the deck ridge.

At 48 pounds, the Kap Farvel is “lightweight, well balanced and easy to carry” (KN). Toggles at the extreme ends of the kayak make for an easy tandem carry and the U-bolts there are large enough to take a cable for a security lock.
The recessed deck fittings have stainless steel rods that are slightly arched over depressions in the deck. The bungies on the aft deck are “numerous and functional. I have never been able to secure a spare paddle as well on any other boat” (SN). There are grab lines around both ends of the boat and a pair of straps aft of the cockpit for a paddle-float rescue. Under the foredeck there is a neoprene shelf for storage of small items.

The cockpit opening was not long enough for the reviewers to board the kayak butt first, then feet. SN, noting he has a 32″ waist, thought the width of the cockpit opening and the seat felt “custom made” for him. The seat is a contoured piece of closed-cell foam with a mesh cover. The seat pad is attached to plastic brackets that can be unbolted and adjusted fore or aft. Though one of the brackets broke when SN was moving it, once he got the seat into the position that suited him, he noted that the “seat back is very comfortable and easily adjusted. The seat bottom fit me perfectly.” KN also thought the seat was quite comfortable, although the slope of the seat “encourages a leaned-back position” not conducive to her upright paddling posture.

Thigh bracing is provided by sheet foam glued to the underside contours of the deck. SN found it “very secure” and for KN it was a “comfortably snug fit.” In the narrow cockpit, KC found she didn’t have the leverage she would have had with her knees splayed a bit more. She relied more on “hip motion and leans to turn the boat.”

The foot braces are adjusted by a strap-and-buckle system that KC and SN found easy to adjust, but which KN had some trouble with. The foot braces rely on the webbing to resist foot pressure. All of the reviewers found that the foot braces were not as rigid as they could be for a boat without a rudder. KN also noted that the system squeaked as she paddled.

The Kap Farvel’s initial stability was described as “low” (KC), “moderate” (SN) and “high”(KN) with low secondary stability. While each of the reviewers had a different impression about how easy it was to set the boat on edge, they agreed that the boat turns well in response to edging both for turning and for making corrections to stay on a straight course.The Kap Farvel is not a strong tracking boat, so its response to edging is important in holding a course.

“The deck does an excellent job of shedding water, which is good because the boat tended to get a lot of water on deck” (SN). When loaded with 50 pounds of gear, the boat had “a tendency to dive coming down the back side of a wave, [and] water sloshed up over the front hatch” (KC).

The reviewers thought it was “relatively fast” (KN), and had ” higher than average speed ” (SN), although the attention paid to keeping a straight course was at the expense of speed.

“The boat likes to go downwind and is fun on small waves” (KN). On boat wakes, KC found the Kap Farvel to be “lively and fun. It maneuvers well in small chop, turning easily on wave crests and remaining stable.” SN thought the Kap Farvel “performed best on larger, more separated waves. On these waves I had no problem steering down the faces.” In the chop, SN found that the Kap Farvel “wanted to turn parallel to the waves.”

The Kap Farvel is “very easy to roll. The boat’s shallow depth [and] low rear deck [are] conducive to rolling” (KC).
KC was new to doing paddle-float reentries using the webbing-and-snap system, and found it hard to cinch the straps down on the paddle, although she thought that she could do it faster with practice. Releasing the buckles with the release system was quick and easy. SN thought the system was “perfectly sized” for setting up a paddle float.

The Kap Farvel has a relatively low volume: under 10 cubic feet. As SN put it, “not enough space for a 15-pound turkey. Space is limited.”

The only leakage reported was by KC, who noted a few tablespoons of water after doing four rolls. The fiberglass lids and the neoprene covers are all tethered against loss, with the same cord attaching both pieces. The rear hatch has two bungies crossed over the hatch lid as well as the two straps securing it, “too much stuff to make opening and closing easy, especially with cold hands” (KN).The fiberglass bulkheads are watertight and the aft bulkhead slopes up to the coaming to make it easy to drain water from the cockpit.

“My overall impression of the Kap Farvel is a positive one. I liked paddling the boat. It would be a fine boat for an intermediate paddler. It is not threatening in its stability, yet it is maneuverable enough to allow someone the opportunity to do some rock hopping and surfing as well as trips” (KN).

“This is a fun boat for someone who likes to play in the waves and has a desire to explore” (SN). “This is a sporty kayak for the smaller paddler who wants to actively ‘drive’ a frisky boat” (KC).


Designer ResponseThank you for reviewing our Kap Farvel. We were pleased to find that the reviewers had discovered the many nifty features that we feel make our kayaks special. Our seats are especially comfortable, and the slope of the seat can be adjusted to accommodate the more upright paddling posture by removing the foam wedge from under the front of the seat.
The cockpit is definitely snug fitting-it’s the same size as that on our whitewater playboat-and it encourages the use of boat lean and edging for extra control. The Kap Farvel tested was the first one built, and we have since made some changes: We are now using Yakima foot rests for really solid bracing; the bow bulkhead is about 11/2 inches farther forward to make room for some taller paddlers; and the stern bulkhead can be a more standard, vertical arrangement, set a bit father back, thus increasing storage in the cockpit area.
Once again, we would like to thank Sea Kayaker magazine and its reviewers for their continuing constructive and impartial kayak reviews.

Steve Schleicher


Options and Pricing

Designed: 1997
Standard Lay-up: vacuum-bagged woven fiberglass cloth with vinylester resin. Reinforced laminate in the bow and stern. Selected unidirectional fiberglass reinforcement in the hull and deck.
Standard Features: Hatches, bulkheads, chart holders, stern storage lines, under-foredeck storage tray, quick-release paddle-float attachment straps, perimeter line.
Approximate Weight: Fiberglass, 48 lbs.; Kevlar, 42 lbs.
Price: Fiberglass, U.S. $2,282; Kevlar, U.S. $2,676
Availability: Through selected dealers. Call manufacturer for nearest dealer.