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Shooting video has never been as popular with sea kayakers as it has been with whitewater paddlers. They like the action, we like the stills that capture the panoramic scenery and the close-up portraits of sea critters. With the advent of tiny, waterproof cams like the ones reviewed here, all that may change. Little cams are popping up on sea kayakers’ decks and helmets, and sea kayaking video is migrating to YouTube. These video cams are unobtrusive, and they capture even the most tranquil of scenes with an immediacy that stills can’t. They’re simply fun. The waterproof versions are becoming commonplace with the rough-water paddlers at tide races, but they’re also capturing quiet lake paddles, wildlife encounters and especially the goofy people stuff like never before.

The three video cams here have plenty in common. Each is small, simple to operate and designed for action in wet environments. They all shoot AVI video at about 30 frame/sec, all with a good deal of jpeg compression. They each have a tiny LCD screen for selecting functions, but they don’t give you the ability to preview or review your shots.

Without giving the manuals more than a passing glance, I popped a Secure Digital (SD) card and batteries in each camera, pushed the ON button and then RECORD, and I was shooting video. The defaults for each camera are set to make a quick start possible. All were easy to rig to a helmet or kayak deck with the included attachments. I shot video with each in essentially identical situations while paddling on calm water, Eskimo rolling or riding a bike. For all testing, I did side-by-side comparisons. For the water shots I mounted the cameras to my helmet, all three at once, and then did the same for the bow and the near foredeck. I wore a 3mm neoprene glove to operate the controls—a ruthlessly high bar for testing such tiny cams. With all I used a card reader to upload the files to my computer. The GoPro and Oregon Scientific cameras were provided with A/V cables, so I was able to view their shots directly on my 19-inch, VGA-size TV.

Epic Action Sports Combo Kit $149 
www.epicstealthcam.com

Pros: Simple 2-button control, waterproof in case to 20ft., accessories for helmet or bike cam, 5MP stills, light-weight, fair sound when not in case, informative beep signals, easy fit in a PFD pocket, picks up light changes quickly.
Cons: Soft plastic lens cover on waterproof case scratches easily and reduces contrast, little sound sensitivity while inside case, difficult to operate with gloved hands, no TV cable.

Equipped with an SD card, two AAA batteries, waterproof case, clip mount, Velcro strap and a foam saddle shaped to fit a bike tube, the Epic weighs in at 5 ounces. The clip mount can be attached directly to the camera or the waterproof case, and has a broad quick-release lever that’s easy to use. The foam saddle acts to secure the camera and dampen vibration. The lens has an aperture of f/2.8 with a 47° field of view (about a 50mm lens in 35mm format equivalent) and its fixed focus covers from one meter to infinity. Video resolution is 640×480 (VGA) or 320×240 (QVGA), at 30 frames/sec. It shoots stills at 5 MP, 3 MP or 640×480, and accepts SD cards up to 4 GB. The manual (eight pages each in English, French and Spanish) covers the operation. Two buttons control everything, allowing on/off, video or stills, quality selection and delete one or all. The battery warns if it’s getting depleted by emitting a long sound. The time remaining for video is indicated on the LCD when in default video mode. When the SD card fills, the LCD indicates FULL. The Epic comes with a USB cable, but I used a card reader for the SD downloads.

Outside of its case, the Epic camera itself is about the size of a D battery; its cylindrical, screw-on top case is not much bigger. Even with the mount and attachment strap, it fits easily in a PFD pocket. A rubber sleeve on the camera hides the SD slot, and a sliding door pops open to access the two AAA batteries. The supplied Velcro strap slips through slots on the mount and together they work well. The camera, by itself or in its case, slides neatly onto the mount.

On the Water 
The camera beeps once when turned on, beeps once for a still picture and beeps twice when recording video. I could still hear the beeps when the camera was in the case, but with normal outdoor background noise this may be difficult. The buttons were easy to operate out of the case. I needed a fingernail to operate the buttons on the housing, but I could do it blind when the Epic was attached to the helmet. With a neoprene glove on, I had difficulty operating the buttons: out of the case was hard, in the case was unworkable.

Review and conclusion 
The camera produced decent video with some grainy noise but little jpeg compression artifacts like blockiness and ragged edges. The light meter caught up almost instantly with changing light. The sound was fair when not enclosed in the case. When the camera was in the housing, the plastic cover reduced contrast and sound was very muffled. The plastic lens cover of the case also scratched easily, further reducing contrast. The 5 MP still pictures were fair quality, averaging about 550 KB, indicating a good deal of compression. The stills had noticeable noise in the shadows and, if the case was used, reduced image contrast. Epic didn’t supply a TV cable, only a USB, but I was able to view it anyway on TV by popping the SD card in one of the other cameras. Video looked very good without the case, with acceptable sound though the wind screamed a bit while on a bike ride.

Oregon Scientific ATC 3K $139 
www2.oregonscientific.com

Pros: Fairly sharp video, high contrast makes image appear sharp, audible sound, recessed lens protects glass, tripod socket, good battery life, accessories for helmet or bike cam, camera can be rotated within mount.
Cons: Sound picks up static (but better than the others in case), icons are at edge of LCD and hard to read, water drops hang up in the recessed lens and distort image, metering not quick to pick up light changes, no stills.

The ATC 3K is a long, black cylinder that weighs 8 ounces including SD card and two AA batteries. Unlike the other two video cams that have housings, the ATC 3K itself is waterproof to 10 feet without a case. Mounts for handlebar and helmet, Velcro strap, silicone rubber head strap, USB and AV cables and silicon grease for the O-rings were all supplied. There is also a 1/4-inch tripod socket. The lens is well recessed, with a fixed focal length and 48° (48mm) field of view. Focus appeared to be good about one meter to infinity. A pair of O-rings seals the end cap, which unscrews for access to the SD card, batteries, plus USB and AV ports. Despite the meager 10-foot underwater rating, the seals looked and felt better than the others, certainly to withstand anything kayaking. Much of the black exterior is partly rubberized for shock-resistance. The camera is video only, no stills, recording at 640×480 (VGA) or 320×240 (QVGA), and 30 frames/sec. It has 32 MB of internal memory and accepts SD cards up to 4 GB. Released from the mount, the camera will fit in a PFD pocket. Three buttons on top provide control (on, record/menu change, menu scroll), and a tiny LCD screen indicates remaining video time, or can be used to scroll though the various options like resolution, sound (hi/low) or delete.

On the Water
The mount conveniently allows the camera to rotate fully in two directions, so you only have to get one plane right when mounting, and then can adjust for the other two. For example, it’s easy to mount it on either side of your helmet, or the top, with the camera pointing forward for recording. The camera snaps on the mount with a reassuring click and is disengaged by pinching two plastic levers. Holding down the ON button for two seconds starts it up to show video time remaining on a tiny LCD. Hold the center button two seconds to begin recording and, again, two seconds to stop. A third button scrolls through the menu icons, again beginning with a two-second hold to get started. I found the little LCD icons difficult to see unless I was in good light. Also, the two-second hold to start a video could seem like an eternity if you need both hands on the paddle.
The camera started up easily with bare hands, but with gloves on I had to be looking at the unit to be sure it turned on. Starting the video was the same, so when I operated the ATC 3K as a helmet cam I took the helmet off for start-up. Mounting on the helmet or deck was easy, but the mount surface wasn’t broad enough and I found I needed to stick in a wedge of foam sometimes to avoid a side-to-side shake, then compensate if it was out of square with a simple twist of the mount.

Review and Conclusions 
Video quality was good, sharp and with excellent contrast, though with a fair amount of blockiness from jpeg compression. Connected to the TV, the image looked good as well. Unfortunately, after submersion from rolling, water tended to hang up in the camera’s recessed lens, greatly distorting the imaging. The light metering usually didn’t catch up with the video, so with a quick Eskimo roll, the underwater footage of the roll was all black (OK, so I roll pretty fast). The sound was fair, but distorted and tinny, and though better than the others in their cases, it still muffled voices unless they were quite close. Battery life outlasted the others, not surprising given the greater capacity of the AA batteries.

GoPro Helmet HeroWide 170° $189 
www.goprocamera.com

Pros: 170° super-wide field of view for edgy, in-your-face video or stills; the ON button blinks red while recording video; timer function for 2- or 5-sec interval stills, picks up light changes quickly, accessory for helmet works for deck as well, operable with gloved hands.
Cons: Little sound gets picked up while the camera is in case, even when set to high; battery life is a bit short.

The GoPro Helmet HeroWide is a three-ounce, two-button, matchbox-sized camera with a protruding fisheye lens. It takes an SD card and two AAA batteries. The correspondingly small waterproof case is rated to 100 feet. Also supplied are helmet and headlamp-type straps and an assortment of mounts, arms, buckles and combo USB/RCA cable. The lens is a super-wide f/2.8 170° fisheye, with a fixed-focus range of about six inches to infinity. It shoots video at 512×384 size, a tad smaller than the others, and 5 MP stills. Weight for camera, case and strap and a couple attachment arms is about eight ounces. The camera may or may not fit in a PFD pocket, depending on which attachments are used. The camera has 32 MB of internal memory, and accepts SD cards up to 2 GB. Two buttons control the camera (power/mode, shutter). The power/mode button turns on the camera, and functions to move the camera between single shot, 2- or 5-second interval, three-shot sequence, video, 10-second self-timer and delete. The 3/4-inch LCD displays the mode, battery life and number of shots taken.

On the Water
The tiny camera fits snugly into its housing. A 3-inch-long plastic plate-mount with a slight bend nicely matches a helmet or kayak deck, and the 3/4-inch strap buckles it securely. A quick-release pops off the camera, though the attachment arms pop off as well. For a helmet cam I needed to add one to three arms (three for a side mount). Only one arm comes with the Hero. Additional arms to provide more flexibility in pointing the unit can be separately ordered. The ON button flashes red once when pushed for start-up. When the video START button is pushed to begin a video, the ON button flashes red on-and-off while recording. I found this very reassuring. I could also turn it on and shoot with gloved hands. A viewfinder can be used to aim the shot, but it doesn’t show the full field of view and is substantially blocked by the black lens ring on the case. The LCD info is displayed upside-down for easier wrist-mounted viewing.
Mounting on deck within arm’s reach takes advantage of the wide angle, and can get all of you in the frame despite the short distance. Subjects need to be fairly close to appear in the frame, or they’ll be quite small and blend into the background. Because the protruding fisheye of the case could get scratched, a soft bag would be prudent for stowage.

Review and Conclusions
Video quality was very good on the computer monitor, with some jpeg compression artifacts, and with fisheye-type lens distortions. Video was a quick setup for TV using supplied cables. The viewing was excellent, but the sound from when the camera was in the case had continuous background hiss and squeal, and was muffled even when set to high. Out of the case, the sound was good. The light meter quickly caught up with changing light. While rolling, a water drop often stuck annoyingly near the middle of the lens.
The 5 MB stills were crisp, averaged 950 KB with little noise or jpeg artifacts, but showed a purple fringing around the edges of the frame. The timer that takes stills continuously every three or five seconds is a winner. Set it to go and get picture after picture without taking your hand off the paddle.

Conclusions
The video cameras all work well, with a minimum of setup time and picture quality suitable for YouTube or better. The small size is great because it allows you to go about your activity with little intrusion. A few ounces on a helmet isn’t much of a burden, and when secured to the deck your main worry will be running short on batteries or memory. The gain that comes with tiny size and simplicity does come with a loss in feedback. Because no review is possible, you have to wait until you get home to see what you got.
A significant difference between these three cameras is the focal length of the lens. The GoPro model tested has a fisheye-wide view; the Epic and Oregon Scientific have a normal field of view. This is something of a personal choice, but if you’re shooting a lot solo, or like in-your-face, edgy video, the GoPro is a great choice, and I don’t think I’d tire of the extreme wide-angle. The more conventional view of the Oregon Scientific and Epic may be better for tracking other paddlers, especially if you want to remove yourself from the scene. GoPro does have a model with a field of view similar to that of the other two brands: the $139 Wrist Hero, a predecessor of which was reviewed by Sea Kayaker in Aug. ’07.
The GoPro wins the glove test, important for paddlers shooting in cold climates. It also was a winner with stills, because the picture quality is good and having a timer taking pictures at two- or five-second intervals is huge. Digital isn’t film, so having the timer take hundreds of images with one push of a button costs no more than the time you spend on your sorting the great ones. I like the GoPro flashing light for video as well. It can be seen at a distance and is very reassuring for self-portraits. The Epic wins for size easiest to fit in a PFD pocket. The Epic beep indicator is nice, and the video was good if not in the case. When compared in their cases, the Oregon Scientific had marginally better sound. It was also best for battery life, and the contrasty video has appeal. Image quality can be pretty subjective, though, so check for yourself at the Sea Kayaker website, where we’ve posted video from these three tiny cams.

Manufacturers are now beginning to design and market products geared specifically toward women paddlers. Women’s PFDs allow for a greater range of adjustability and various foam panel configurations to accommodate different builds.

Just a few years ago, the great majority of sea kayakers were men. Most of the boats and gear on the market were, of course, oriented toward men’s body sizes. Today, with the boom in interest in sea kayaking, the base of paddlers has shifted to include many more women. In fact, at the 1997 West Coast Sea Kayaker Symposium, according to the Trade Association of Paddle Sports’ (TAPS) executive director Neil Weisner-Hanks, fully half of the participants were women.

Female paddlers have, until recently, had to make do with personal flotation devices (PFDs) designed for men. It would be hard to find a female paddler who hasn’t experienced the frustration of wearing a PFD designed for men in which the shoulders ride up to the point where her chin rests on the front panel, it cannot be cinched in enough to provide a snug fit, or the bust is uncomfortably constricted.

The good news is that manufacturers are now beginning to design and market products geared specifically toward women paddlers. Women’s PFDs allow for a greater range of adjustability and various foam panel configurations to accommodate different builds. With several new women’s vests on the market, we decided to review one from each of four leading manufacturers, to gain an insight into how these PFDs compare and contrast with each other, and how they function for women paddlers.

As with any gear or equipment for paddlers, there is no one PFD that can be considered “best” for all female paddlers. When selecting a PFD, each individual needs to take into account factors such as how well it fits, how you plan to use the PFD (for day trips or extended journeys), and how advanced a paddler you are-do you really need the tow rope loop if you don’t even own a tow rope?

Some features to look for in determining which PFD is right for you are: visibility; range of motion (for paddle sweeps and bending during rolls); length (the shorter styles are usually better fitting for women); comfort; and useful features such as mesh pockets or gear loops.

Sea Kayaker had two expert women paddlers of different sizes try out four PFDs supplied by the manufacturers: Extrasport’s Mona Lisa, Kokatat’s MsFit, Lotus Design’s Locean and Stohlquist’s Mobius. (While the Mobius is marketed for both men and women, it was originally designed for women.) All of the PFDs tested were the vest-style Type III “flotation aid.” They are all made of closed-cell foam, and designed for water sports. According to U.S. Coast Guard regulations, the Type III PFDs are meant to provide a stable, face-up position in calm water for a wearer floating with her head tilted back. Our reviewers found that, with the exception of one of the PFDs tested, when beginning from a neutral, vertical position, the tendency of each PFD was to push the wearer face-down. It took the extra effort of tilting the head back to achieve the face-up position.

Additionally, each of the PFDs we tested was short-waisted, which makes for a better fit for women, who typically have shorter torsos. The reviewers assessed each of the PFDs in nine areas: appearance, construction, ease of entry/exit, fit, adjustability, range of motion, buoyancy, features and visibility.

Since the consumer’s only way to assess a PFD in a retail store is to try it on for comfort, we had our reviewers take these PFDs through their paces in the water as well, to provide a better picture of how they would perform in a situation where the wearer is swimming. In addition to testing in the water, each PFD was put through a rigorous workout including extended paddle trips in varying conditions and rolling.

Shooting video has never been as popular with sea kayakers as it has been with whitewater paddlers. They like the action, we like the stills that capture the panoramic scenery and the close-up portraits of sea critters. With the advent of tiny,waterproof cams like the ones reviewed here, all that may change. Little cams are popping up on sea kayakers’ decks and helmets, and sea kayaking video is migrating to YouTube. These video cams are unobtrusive, and they capture even the most tranquil of scenes with an immediacy that stills can’t. They’re simply fun. The waterproof versions are becoming commonplace with the rough-water paddlers at tide races, but they’re also capturing quiet lake paddles, wildlife encounters and especially the goofy people stuff like never before.

The three video cams here have plenty in common. Each is small, simple to operate and designed for action in wet environments. They all shoot AVI video at about 30 frame/sec, all with a good deal of jpeg compression. They each have a tiny LCD screen for selecting functions, but they don’t give you the ability to preview or review your shots.

Without giving the manuals more than a passing glance, I popped a Secure Digital (SD) card and batteries in each camera, pushed the ON button and then RECORD, and I was shooting video. The defaults for each camera are set to make a quick start possible. All were easy to rig to a helmet or kayak deck with the included attachments. I shot video with each in essentially identical situations while paddling on calm water, Eskimo rolling or riding a bike. For all testing, I did side-by-side comparisons. For the water shots I mounted the cameras to my helmet, all three at once, and then did the same for the bow and the near foredeck. I wore a 3mm neoprene glove to operate the controls—a ruthlessly high bar for testing such tiny cams. With all I used a card reader to upload the files to my computer. The GoPro and Oregon Scientific cameras were provided with A/V cables, so I was able to view their shots directly on my 19-inch, VGA-size TV.

Epic Action Sports Combo Kit $149 

Pros: Simple 2-button control, waterproof in case to 20ft., accessories for helmet or bike cam, 5MP stills, light-weight, fair sound when not in case, informative beep signals, easy fit in a PFD pocket, picks up light changes quickly.
Cons: Soft plastic lens cover on waterproof case scratches easily and reduces contrast, little sound sensitivity while inside case, difficult to operate with gloved hands, no TV cable.

Equipped with an SD card, two AAA batteries, waterproof case, clip mount, Velcro strap and a foam saddle shaped to fit a bike tube, the Epic weighs in at 5 ounces. The clip mount can be attached directly to the camera or the waterproof case, and has a broad quick-release lever that’s easy to use. The foam saddle acts to secure the camera and dampen vibration. The lens has an aperture of f/2.8 with a 47° field of view (about a 50mm lens in 35mm format equivalent) and its fixed focus covers from one meter to infinity. Video resolution is 640×480 (VGA) or 320×240 (QVGA), at 30 frames/sec. It shoots stills at 5 MP, 3 MP or 640×480, and accepts SD cards up to 4 GB. The manual (eight pages each in English, French and Spanish) covers the operation. Two buttons control everything, allowing on/off, video or stills, quality selection and delete one or all. The battery warns if it’s getting depleted by emitting a long sound. The time remaining for video is indicated on the LCD when in default video mode. When the SD card fills, the LCD indicates FULL. The Epic comes with a USB cable, but I used a card reader for the SD downloads.

Outside of its case, the Epic camera itself is about the size of a D battery; its cylindrical, screw-on top case is not much bigger. Even with the mount and attachment strap, it fits easily in a PFD pocket. A rubber sleeve on the camera hides the SD slot, and a sliding door pops open to access the two AAA batteries. The supplied Velcro strap slips through slots on the mount and together they work well. The camera, by itself or in its case, slides neatly onto the mount.

On the Water 
The camera beeps once when turned on, beeps once for a still picture and beeps twice when recording video. I could still hear the beeps when the camera was in the case, but with normal outdoor background noise this may be difficult. The buttons were easy to operate out of the case. I needed a fingernail to operate the buttons on the housing, but I could do it blind when the Epic was attached to the helmet. With a neoprene glove on, I had difficulty operating the buttons: out of the case was hard, in the case was unworkable.

Review and conclusion 
The camera produced decent video with some grainy noise but little jpeg compression artifacts like blockiness and ragged edges. The light meter caught up almost instantly with changing light. The sound was fair when not enclosed in the case. When the camera was in the housing, the plastic cover reduced contrast and sound was very muffled. The plastic lens cover of the case also scratched easily, further reducing contrast. The 5 MP still pictures were fair quality, averaging about 550 KB, indicating a good deal of compression. The stills had noticeable noise in the shadows and, if the case was used, reduced image contrast. Epic didn’t supply a TV cable, only a USB, but I was able to view it anyway on TV by popping the SD card in one of the other cameras. Video looked very good without the case, with acceptable sound though the wind screamed a bit while on a bike ride.

Oregon Scientific ATC 3K $139 

Pros: Fairly sharp video, high contrast makes image appear sharp, audible sound, recessed lens protects glass, tripod socket, good battery life, accessories for helmet or bike cam, camera can be rotated within mount.
Cons: Sound picks up static (but better than the others in case), icons are at edge of LCD and hard to read, water drops hang up in the recessed lens and distort image, metering not quick to pick up light changes, no stills.

The ATC 3K is a long, black cylinder that weighs 8 ounces including SD card and two AA batteries. Unlike the other two video cams that have housings, the ATC 3K itself is waterproof to 10 feet without a case. Mounts for handlebar and helmet, Velcro strap, silicone rubber head strap, USB and AV cables and silicon grease for the O-rings were all supplied. There is also a 1/4-inch tripod socket. The lens is well recessed, with a fixed focal length and 48° (48mm) field of view. Focus appeared to be good about one meter to infinity. A pair of O-rings seals the end cap, which unscrews for access to the SD card, batteries, plus USB and AV ports. Despite the meager 10-foot underwater rating, the seals looked and felt better than the others, certainly to withstand anything kayaking. Much of the black exterior is partly rubberized for shock-resistance. The camera is video only, no stills, recording at 640×480 (VGA) or 320×240 (QVGA), and 30 frames/sec. It has 32 MB of internal memory and accepts SD cards up to 4 GB. Released from the mount, the camera will fit in a PFD pocket. Three buttons on top provide control (on, record/menu change, menu scroll), and a tiny LCD screen indicates remaining video time, or can be used to scroll though the various options like resolution, sound (hi/low) or delete.

On the Water
The mount conveniently allows the camera to rotate fully in two directions, so you only have to get one plane right when mounting, and then can adjust for the other two. For example, it’s easy to mount it on either side of your helmet, or the top, with the camera pointing forward for recording. The camera snaps on the mount with a reassuring click and is disengaged by pinching two plastic levers. Holding down the ON button for two seconds starts it up to show video time remaining on a tiny LCD. Hold the center button two seconds to begin recording and, again, two seconds to stop. A third button scrolls through the menu icons, again beginning with a two-second hold to get started. I found the little LCD icons difficult to see unless I was in good light. Also, the two-second hold to start a video could seem like an eternity if you need both hands on the paddle.
The camera started up easily with bare hands, but with gloves on I had to be looking at the unit to be sure it turned on. Starting the video was the same, so when I operated the ATC 3K as a helmet cam I took the helmet off for start-up. Mounting on the helmet or deck was easy, but the mount surface wasn’t broad enough and I found I needed to stick in a wedge of foam sometimes to avoid a side-to-side shake, then compensate if it was out of square with a simple twist of the mount.

Review and Conclusions 
Video quality was good, sharp and with excellent contrast, though with a fair amount of blockiness from jpeg compression. Connected to the TV, the image looked good as well. Unfortunately, after submersion from rolling, water tended to hang up in the camera’s recessed lens, greatly distorting the imaging. The light metering usually didn’t catch up with the video, so with a quick Eskimo roll, the underwater footage of the roll was all black (OK, so I roll pretty fast). The sound was fair, but distorted and tinny, and though better than the others in their cases, it still muffled voices unless they were quite close. Battery life outlasted the others, not surprising given the greater capacity of the AA batteries.

GoPro Helmet HeroWide 170° $189 

Pros: 170° super-wide field of view for edgy, in-your-face video or stills; the ON button blinks red while recording video; timer function for 2- or 5-sec interval stills, picks up light changes quickly, accessory for helmet works for deck as well, operable with gloved hands.  Cons: Little sound gets picked up while the camera is in case, even when set to high; battery life is a bit short.

The GoPro Helmet HeroWide is a three-ounce, two-button, matchbox-sized camera with a protruding fisheye lens. It takes an SD card and two AAA batteries. The correspondingly small waterproof case is rated to 100 feet. Also supplied are helmet and headlamp-type straps and an assortment of mounts, arms, buckles and combo USB/RCA cable. The lens is a super-wide f/2.8 170° fisheye, with a fixed-focus range of about six inches to infinity. It shoots video at 512×384 size, a tad smaller than the others, and 5 MP stills. Weight for camera, case and strap and a couple attachment arms is about eight ounces. The camera may or may not fit in a PFD pocket, depending on which attachments are used. The camera has 32 MB of internal memory, and accepts SD cards up to 2 GB. Two buttons control the camera (power/mode, shutter). The power/mode button turns on the camera, and functions to move the camera between single shot, 2- or 5-second interval, three-shot sequence, video, 10-second self-timer and delete. The 3/4-inch LCD displays the mode, battery life and number of shots taken.

On the Water
The tiny camera fits snugly into its housing. A 3-inch-long plastic plate-mount with a slight bend nicely matches a helmet or kayak deck, and the 3/4-inch strap buckles it securely. A quick-release pops off the camera, though the attachment arms pop off as well. For a helmet cam I needed to add one to three arms (three for a side mount). Only one arm comes with the Hero. Additional arms to provide more flexibility in pointing the unit can be separately ordered. The ON button flashes red once when pushed for start-up. When the video START button is pushed to begin a video, the ON button flashes red on-and-off while recording. I found this very reassuring. I could also turn it on and shoot with gloved hands. A viewfinder can be used to aim the shot, but it doesn’t show the full field of view and is substantially blocked by the black lens ring on the case. The LCD info is displayed upside-down for easier wrist-mounted viewing.
Mounting on deck within arm’s reach takes advantage of the wide angle, and can get all of you in the frame despite the short distance. Subjects need to be fairly close to appear in the frame, or they’ll be quite small and blend into the background. Because the protruding fisheye of the case could get scratched, a soft bag would be prudent for stowage.

Review and Conclusions
Video quality was very good on the computer monitor, with some jpeg compression artifacts, and with fisheye-type lens distortions. Video was a quick setup for TV using supplied cables. The viewing was excellent, but the sound from when the camera was in the case had continuous background hiss and squeal, and was muffled even when set to high. Out of the case, the sound was good. The light meter quickly caught up with changing light. While rolling, a water drop often stuck annoyingly near the middle of the lens.
The 5 MB stills were crisp, averaged 950 KB with little noise or jpeg artifacts, but showed a purple fringing around the edges of the frame. The timer that takes stills continuously every three or five seconds is a winner. Set it to go and get picture after picture without taking your hand off the paddle.

Conclusions
The video cameras all work well, with a minimum of setup time and picture quality suitable for YouTube or better. The small size is great because it allows you to go about your activity with little intrusion. A few ounces on a helmet isn’t much of a burden, and when secured to the deck your main worry will be running short on batteries or memory. The gain that comes with tiny size and simplicity does come with a loss in feedback. Because no review is possible, you have to wait until you get home to see what you got.
A significant difference between these three cameras is the focal length of the lens. The GoPro model tested has a fisheye-wide view; the Epic and Oregon Scientific have a normal field of view. This is something of a personal choice, but if you’re shooting a lot solo, or like in-your-face, edgy video, the GoPro is a great choice, and I don’t think I’d tire of the extreme wide-angle. The more conventional view of the Oregon Scientific and Epic may be better for tracking other paddlers, especially if you want to remove yourself from the scene. GoPro does have a model with a field of view similar to that of the other two brands: the $139 Wrist Hero, a predecessor of which was reviewed by Sea Kayaker in Aug. ’07.
The GoPro wins the glove test, important for paddlers shooting in cold climates. It also was a winner with stills, because the picture quality is good and having a timer taking pictures at two- or five-second intervals is huge. Digital isn’t film, so having the timer take hundreds of images with one push of a button costs no more than the time you spend on your sorting the great ones. I like the GoPro flashing light for video as well. It can be seen at a distance and is very reassuring for self-portraits. The Epic wins for size easiest to fit in a PFD pocket. The Epic beep indicator is nice, and the video was good if not in the case. When compared in their cases, the Oregon Scientific had marginally better sound. It was also best for battery life, and the contrasty video has appeal. Image quality can be pretty subjective, though, so check for yourself at the Sea Kayaker website, where we’ve posted video from these three tiny cams.

My neighbor up the road is a Ford man; my neighbor down the road has never bought anything but a Chevy. They don’t like each other. By the same token, many of you will disagree with my opinions about cold-water expedition sea kayaking. All I have to say is that I’m still alive after twenty-five years of paddling in nasty oceans like the Canadian and Siberian Arctic, Cape Horn, and the Bering Sea. Some will argue that my experiences are irrelevant because not many people paddle on long expeditions in cold oceans. True enough, but the lessons learned there may apply to less ambitious outings: Even a warm southern ocean or a large lake can bare its teeth occasionally.

Footwear: In My Previous Life I was a Turtle
Which would you prefer: dry feet wrapped in moisture-absorbing inner socks, surrounded by cuddly-warm outer socks, protected by comfy rubber boots-or cold swollen toes itching with salt water sores and screaming for mercy from damp, smelly, salt-encrusted river shoes? The former, of course. When I’m kayaking, though, I opt for the latter. My wife, Chris, tells me that I was a turtle in my previous life and that turtles expect their feet to be cold, wet, and miserable. Most people just think I’m a crackpot, but I’ll stick to my guns. I wear footwear that I fully expect to get wet.

My underlying principle for footwear and kayaking apparel is that I’d rather be uncomfortable all of the time than dead every once in a while. In a perfect world, you’d pull on your rubber boots and step dryly and demurely into the cockpit, stretch your sprayskirt tight, and paddle off into the bonny blue. Boots work fine until the water sneaks in over the top. Maybe you wade in a little too deep or maybe you capsize, miss your roll, and swim.

No, give me a pair of river shoes. Many manufacturers make light shoes with a stiff sole and holes in the sides to let the water run in and out. I’ll get my feet wet for sure, but I can run agilely in the surf to help my partner. If I capsize or swamp, my river shoes won’t pull me under like a pair of cement shoes on a New York mobster.

Formal Wear for Pitchpoling in the Surf
When paddling through the Kuril Islands, my partner Franz and I wore dry suits. They were snug and warm for the first few weeks. We spent nine nights in our boats and then one morning, before dawn, Franz complained that the fabric on his suit was leaking and cold water was seeping down to his butt. The next night water oozed into my dry suit, and collected in a pool, right where I didn’t want it to be. A little water in my undies is no big deal, but a week later the main waterproof zipper blew out, leaving a two-foot hole slanting from my appendix to my neck. A few days after that, I tore my neck gasket. For the next month, the suit routinely filled with water in snotty weather. Every few hours, I’d wring out my fleece undergarments, and pull back my sprayskirt so I could reach down to drain the excess water through my ankle gaskets. Needless to say, I was cold and shivery.

Dry suits are great, but when they fail, they fail catastrophically. Maybe, God forbid, you’re swimming in shoal water and you rip your dry suit on a sharp rock. Then, all of a sudden, you’re weighed down with an extra 20 to 30 pounds of water. On an expedition, it’s the catastrophic failures-not the discomforts-that I worry about.

On my most recent Bering Sea expedition, I wore a Farmer John neoprene wetsuit. Yes, I got wet when pushing my partners out through the surf. Yes, it was horrible to dust the ice out of the pant legs and then slip into the stiff garment on frosty mornings. Yes, it had a strong smell after a four-month expedition. But neoprene is warmer when wet than anything I know of. The vest portion of the Farmer John generally stayed dry and kept my core warm. In addition neoprene provides flotation if you’re swimming and it’s the most shock-absorbent fabric if a big wave tosses you into a rock. If it rips, the hole isn’t catastrophic because the suit is designed to let a little water in anyway. And a little dab of glue will patch that tear in a jiffy. Call me old fashioned, but I intend to stay that way until they come up with something better.

Paddling Jackets: What Every Commercial Fisherman Learned Long Ago
I don’t actually enjoy being cold, wet, and miserable. I’d just as soon be as comfy as possible, so I’m picky about my paddling jacket. You can stay alive with cold feet, but on a snowy day with breaking waves and a strong wind, you’d better keep your chest warm. Neoprene is great stuff, but it doesn’t work well as for a jacket. It’s heavy and restricts arm motion, and it is also beastly hot on a warm day.

There are two kinds of paddling jackets, those for river kayakers and those for sea kayakers. A river-kayaking dry top is the most waterproof garment available. The fabric is waterproof and the seams are backed by waterproof tape. Latex gaskets seal water out of the neck and wrists. Sealed into a cockpit with a tight sprayskirt, you can play in waves and roll in holes all day long without getting soaked. That said, I don’t recommend a river kayaking dry top because it’s not warm enough and at the same time it’s too warm. If you’re confused, hang on.

Every sea has its hot, mellow days and its snotty days, and the perfect sea kayak jacket should keep you comfortable under all conditions. On cold days, a river-kayaking dry top isn’t warm enough because it doesn’t have a hood. A hood is almost essential when a tail wind blows down from the North Pole and races across a thousand miles of fractured sea ice to caress the back of your neck. Even in the Gulf of Mexico, a hood is real nice on a cold rainy day in January-I wouldn’t leave home without one.

On the other hand, on a warm day, you can’t unzip a river kayaking dry top to let cool air breeze across your torso. Most sea-kayaking paddle jackets have a hood and a zipper down the front and no neck gasket. You can unzip and vent your core on a hot day. (For cold weather paddling, I prefer a short zippered anorak to a full zippered jacket.) Assuming that you’re not going to roll or swamp frequently, you don’t need a neck gasket so the zipper and hood system is definitely the way to go.

Sleeves and Cuffs
A paddling jacket with latex wrist gaskets is uncomfortable around camp or on a warm day at sea. On the other hand, sleeves with a Velcro and neoprene or stretch-fabric cuff will leak, and after a long day, water will pool up around your elbow. If you lay a high brace on a rising wave, the water will run down to your warm, dry tummy.

Before I was a sea kayaker, I spent five years as a fisherman on the Bering Sea, and I learned how to keep my sleeves and elbows dry. Most fishermen wear loose-fitting vinyl slickers without tight closures around the wrists. To keep the salt water, fish slime, and motor oil away from their forearms and elbows, fishermen use a separate piece of clothing consisting of a sleeve that extends from your biceps to your wrist, with watertight closures on each end. On a warm, sunny day, we’d wear the sleeves without a slicker. If the weather were nasty we’d wear the sleeves over the slicker.

Chris made sleeves for sea kayaking in the North Bering Sea. She sewed a 3/4-length sleeve of waterproof fabric and sealed the seams. She glued a latex wrist gasket on one end and sewed a Velcro closure on the top of the sleeve. My paddling anorak had neoprene cuffs that were comfortable but not particularly waterproof, but I stayed pretty dry when I wore the sleeves over the anorak. For heavy rain we’d wear our sleeves under our paddling jackets so water doesn’t sneak in over the top of the sleeves and pool in between the two garments. Ashore, I’d take the sleeves off.

Sprayskirts and Layering: Your Roofer Doesn’t Know Best
If you’re walking around in the rain, you won’t tuck your parka into your rain pants and your rain pants into your boots because with that layering system, water would run into your body and you’d get soaked. To stay dry you overlap your clothing like the shingles and siding on a house, right? That’s why I always put my anorak and PFD on over the sprayskirt.

Chris layered her “shingles” all wrong by wearing her sprayskirt over her PFD and anorak. Water wouldn’t have a hard time sneaking in over the top of the spray skirt and working its way into her lap. Now, Chris is a competent expedition veteran and I was in no moral or marital position to tell her how to dress, so I kept my opinions to myself. I thought it odd though that I repeatedly got wetter and colder than she did. One day as we were floating offshore eating lunch, I asked Chris why she wore her spray skirt the way she did.
She conceded that if you’re in a horrible, stormy sea, my method of layering would be best, but in such a storm she’d rather sip tea from a sheltered tent. In a normal kayaking day, even in steep seas formed by the colliding currents of the Bering Sea, most of the splashes don’t rise over the top of the sprayskirt. She pointed out that my PFD was pushing my sprayskirt down, forming a small moat of cold water around my hips and kidneys that was obviously cooling my core.

We finished lunch and continued paddling. An afternoon headwind pushed wavelets over the deck and into my moat. Slowly, water seeped through the seam in the sprayskirt and dripped inside. It wasn’t a big drip, but it was steady enough so that at the end of a long day, I was, yes, cold, wet, and just a touch more miserable than I needed to be.

The next day, I pulled my sprayskirt over the anorak and PFD. Then I cinched up the shoulder straps and turned the sprayskirt into a water-shedding cone rather than a water-collecting moat. Having my sprayskirt over my PFD also helped the PFD’s thick layer of insulation hold an envelope of warm air around my torso.

To make Jon’s sleeves all you need is a yard of coated nylon pack cloth, a pair of wrist gaskets, 12″ of Velcro and some Aquaseal adhesive. The latex wrist gaskets are available from most drysuit manufacturers and retailers. Get the right size for your wrists.

The sleeve is a tapered tube sewn to match the length of your arm from armpit to wrist. The top end needs to be wide enough to fit loosely around your upper arm with whatever clothing you’ll be wearing. Hem the top and sew a Velcro tab for drawing the sleeve tight. The bottom end needs to be matched to the gasket and a form for gluing. A two-liter soda bottle (with a wrap of masking tape to keep the glue from sticking) makes a good form. When you sew the sleeve make sure that the bottom inch of it fits snugly around the bottle. To glue the gasket to the sleeve, stretch the gasket, right side out, over the top of the bottle and roll the end up into a 1″ cuff. Slip the sleeve, right side out, on the bottom of the bottle to meet the gasket. Swab the cuff and a 1″ band of the fabric with alcohol. When dry, carefully coat the fabric and cuff with Aquaseal. Roll the cuff down carefully and let dry overnight.
Treat the seams with Aquaseal. -Ed.

Auxiliary Appendages: Protecting Your Hands and Head
For warm hands, some people prefer pogies while others swear by neoprene gloves. Both work, but don’t forget that every gram on your paddle can translate into lifting an extra ton over the course of a month of paddling. Why spend an extra $150 for a helium-filled carbon graphite paddle only to add fifty grams (fifty tons) of pogie or glove onto the shaft. So, if you can possibly stand it, paddle bare handed. Keep those hand-warming devices in your ditty bag for days when you absolutely need them.

I’d never worn a helmet while sea kayaking, even though I never, never, never paddled in my river kayak without a helmet. My reasoning seemed logical: “A helmet while sea kayaking??? Gimmie a break! The ocean is five miles deep! How am I going to hit my head?”

The answer is simple. “You’ll hit your head when you roll in the surf.”
If you paddle in and out of the surf, eventually you’re going to capsize, pitchpole, window shade, and cartwheel. And when your boat is doing tricks for you, your head is swinging around, looking for rocks. Take a helmet. Tie it on the deck when you’re in deep water, but pull the chin strap tight when coming in for a landing.

Expedition Kayaks Through Surf
Most sea kayakers seek protected bays, fiords, or inside passages, far from the ravages of pounding surf. And for good reason. A breaking wave can lift a sea kayak, fling it in the air, spin it, flail it, and smash it against a rock all while you are in it! Like most people, I started sea kayaking in inside passages. Even when I ventured to hardscrabble coastlines like the Canadian and Siberian Arctic, I continually sought shelter behind island archipelagos or the pack ice. Yet, I always knew that one day I wanted to take my kayak into the open sea. To live out my dream, I paddled 3,000 miles from Japan to Alaska. (Sea Kayaker, Sept 2001). The coastline offered little shelter and my partner and I kayaked in and out through the surf zone almost daily.

Coming in for a Landing
Imagine that you’ve been paddling along the coast all day and now you’re tired and looking for a place to camp. First, you locate a suitable beach (more about that later). Then you point your boat toward shore and take a deep breath. If you’ve been using your rudder, as I do when I’m in deep water, you flip it up to avoid bending or breaking it when you hit the beach. You zip your anorak tight, pull the drawstrings on the hood and sprayskirt, put your helmet on and paddle toward the beach.

Deep-water waves are relatively smooth and symmetrical, but closer to shore, the waves develop a steep face. Paddle in, look behind you, and take a few power strokes. If you want to surf the next wave to the beach, you must move about as fast as the wave is moving. If your timing is right, the wave will curl, start to break and lift your stern; you rocket you forward.

When you are surfing, the wind is in your face, foam is curling under your armpits, and you’re on top of your game. But remember, if one part of your boat moves with the wave while your bow buries itself in the water in front of the wave, you’ll capsize or pitchpole. It’s like running down a trail and catching your foot on a root: Your foot stops, your head and shoulders keep going, and you fall down.

If the speed of your boat is matched to the speed of the wave, you’ll sit on the wave and race to shore with grace and finesse. But commonly, a kayak tends to accelerate and move down the face of the wave until the bow plunges into the trough. The trick is to slow down and stay on the face of the wave between the trough and the breaking crest. Surfers and play boaters reduce their speed by cutting back and forth on the wave, like a skier carving turns down a slope. Expedition sea kayaks, while they are fast in open water, cannot carve rapid turns on a fast breaking wave.

Sometimes you can slow down with a dragging rudder stroke or with some quick, soft back-paddling. But this technique won’t work if the wave is too steep. If you’re still moving too fast, sweep or rudder to turn the boat at an angle to the wave face. You’ll slow your descent down the wave face and avoid driving tour bow underwater. If the wave has a fast-moving crest it will frequently kick your stern forward until it catches up with the bow, and suddenly your kayak is parallel to the wave. The breaking foam will push the boat sideways, and if you catch the kayak edge closest to the shore, you’ll capsize in an instant.

To keep from capsizing, lock your thighs firmly into their braces, cock your hips, and lean your boat, into the foam pile. Brace into the wave: grab the foam pile with your paddle and lean on it. With your boat tilted, the hull will slide across the water and you’ll ride the foam pile toward the beach. It may not be elegant, but you won’t be swimming.

On the first day of the second season of the Pacific Rim expedition, I paddled toward the beach, fully expecting to catch a wave, veer off to one side and side-surf to the beach. Instead, the wave was so steep that the nose of the kayak dropped straight down and augured into the sand with a thud. The boat catapulted up and over and I landed kersplat, on the sand-on my head. I had to adopt a new technique for steep, close-out breaks. For these conditions I now sprint to catch the wave, and when the bow is clear of the water I immediately crank a monster rudder-stroke, turning my boat onto my strong side. I drop in parallel to the wave crest. When the kayak drops off a wave face, it transfers tremendous force to your shoulder, especially if the kayak is heavily laden. I hold my brace low and tuck my elbow against my ribs to avoid a shoulder dislocation. I lean the boat into the wave and hold my brace and I’ll ride sideways to the beach.

Who Forgot the Seed Potatoes?
OK, you’ve landed. But unless someone brought seed potatoes, a fishing pole, and an ax to build a cabin and spend the winter, the following morning you’ll have to paddle back out through the surf. Launches are more difficult than landings for the simple reason that you’re trying to move against the motion of the water. If you make a mistake on a landing, the waves will probably wash you onto the beach, which is where you want to be. But if you make a mistake while launching, then the waves will probably wash you onto the beach, which is where you don’t want to be.

The key to launching is to build enough speed to punch through the breaking wave. If you are moving too slowly, the breaking wave will catapult you over backward or wash you onto the beach, where you started. If the wave is breaking far off the beach, paddle out and hit it with as much speed and power as you can muster. But on many coastlines there is a nasty shore break that beats right on the beach. The best technique to combat a close-in break is for one person to remain on foot and to push his or her partners through the surf. Of course, you ask, who goes out last, without assistance? You can play rock-scissors-paper, take turns, or pick the dufus who locked the car keys in the shuttle rig.

Here’s the system we used along the Kamchatka coast. We dragged the first kayak down the beach until it was close to the surf, but still sitting on wet sand. The first paddler climbed aboard and I would drag the boat a little farther, until it floated when a wave rolled in and sat on the sand when the wave receded. Waves usually come in sets: three or four big ones, a few medium, and then a set of small ones. We watched the ocean until the timing was right. Then, I grabbed the bow loop and towed the boat into the surf until I couldn’t run any more. (It’s important to pull from the bow, because if you push from the stern, the kayak can deflect off a wave and turn sideways.) Quickly, as the paddler started stroking, I ducked under the upraised shaft, and gave the stern a huge shove. Generally, the momentum and paddling pushed the boat through the wave into the deep water.

As the last at the beach I was without anyone to help me. I sealed myself into the cockpit while the kayak was high and dry. Then I scooted the boat down the beach with my hands. It is quite common for the waves to hit the beach at an oblique angle. After the wave has washed up the beach, the water recedes down the beach at a different angle, usually perpendicular to the beach. In this situation, as I was scooting along, the boat would float on the wash and follow it down the slope of the beach. Then, the next breaking wave would hit the bow at an angle, turn it sideways, and wash the boat back up the beach. The problem was that the water breaking on the beach was foamy and aerated. I couldn’t get any power out of a paddle stroke and I couldn’t brace. I tried every technique I knew, but, on average, I washed back up the beach three times before I blasted through the shore break.

Ultimately, speed, power, and luck turned out to be more important than timing. I’d push like a madman, get the boat floating, and then hope that I’d find green water before the break hit me. If I could manage just one or two quick strokes, I’d hit the wave with enough speed to crank a prying, bracing stroke that would pull me through.

Ocean waves are powerful and dangerous, but most of them will carry you toward shore. You might get thrashed and you might capsize, but you’ll probably be alright if you wash back up the beach. Bail out the boat if necessary, catch your breath, let your adrenaline settle out, and try again.

In some instances, however, undertows or rip tides carry hapless boaters out to sea. If you’re caught in a powerful rip and you’re in your boat, relax. You can’t fight against a force of nature that is more powerful than you are. Even though this advice seems counter-intuitive, paddle away from shore, into deep water. Eventually, you’ll leave the shore current behind you. Then swing wide and approach the beach in a place where the shore current is weak. However, if you have capsized and you’re swimming, a rip or undertow can drag you into deep water unless you can move across the current and out of it. Try to get back in the cockpit, bail out, and reattach your sprayskirt. Get underway and move away from the current because your survival may depend on it.

Choosing a Landing Site: It’s a Kayak, Not an Aircraft Carrier
Surf landings and launchings may be exhilarating and sporty but they’re also dangerous. A broken boat, a bent rudder, a hard knock of body against rock, or a dislocated shoulder are no fun. For me, expeditions present an odd contradiction. First I pick a route that is inherently dangerous and then I try to make it safe. If you ask me why I don’t pick an inherently safe route to begin with, I’ll stammer, look at my shoes, and grin foolishly.
I frequently carry both navigational charts and topographical maps. Navigational charts provide information on currents and show water depth, which, as we will see, are essential in predicting surf conditions. On the other hand, topographical maps provide a more detailed picture of stream courses, valleys, and headlands.
When you are cruising a remote coast, you’ll need all this information.

Swell Direction
Every morning, look out to sea and note the swell direction. Then look at the chart and map and try to predict how the swells will strike each little bluff and headland. Remember, you’re in a kayak, not an aircraft carrier. Sometimes a tiny hook of rock may form a protected beach no more than 50 yards wide. That’s great. Even fifteen feet will do.

Water Depth
The most forgiving surf forms over a gradually sloping bottom where the waves break a few hundred yards out, and form a wave face with a gentle angle. You can ride such an easy break even in a fully loaded sea kayak. Study the depths on your navigational chart at your present position. Then ask, what’s the surf like here? If it’s easily manageable, try to pick your next landfall at a place with a similar bottom profile. Make note of any part of the coast that has a gently sloping bottom with no shoals or shelves: you may be able to land there.
Don’t forget that water depth changes with the tide. A beach with a rough break at high tide may be fine at low tide and vice versa. So, when you’re sitting around the campfire at night, watch how the surf changes with the tide, and use that information to plan your landing the following day.

River Mouths
A river may erode a channel through a beach. Frequently, you can paddle up this deep-water path and avoid the surf altogether. On the other hand, if a river carries a lot of sediment, it will form bars and shoals that generate dangerous offshore breaks. Often you can spot bars on your navigational chart, while at other times you must rely on local knowledge.

Rocks and Body Parts
Do I need to say it: If the surf is big and there’s a possibility that you might crash, roll, capsize, or pitchpole, then sandy beaches are better than rock. And don’t forget to wear your helmet whenever you paddle through the surf. Even if the sand is soft you need to protect your head from collisions with other hard things like your kayak.

Expedition Strategy
Let’s imagine that you can comfortably paddle 25 miles a day in calm water. So you wake up in the morning, and look on your map for a potential camp 25 miles away. Ideally, you want a deep bay with a narrow entry that will shelter the swell and create a calm harbor. But chances are that on an entire expedition, you may never find a perfect harbor exactly 25 miles from your previous camp. So you make a variety of choices. If there’s a good harbor 15 miles away, followed by the Big Ugly, maybe it’s time to take an easy day and rest those tired muscles. Or alternatively, if the wind is going to be at your back and there’s a good harbor 30 miles away: Go for it!
An expedition is about analyzing the paddling conditions for the day and then basing your comfort, your safety, and even your life on your decisions. A magazine article or a teacher can impart helpful guidelines and simple rules. But the ocean is complex and chaotic and every rule has its exception. Be alert for nuances in your watery environment, remember your experiences, and constantly fine-tune your paddling techniques to match the feel of the sea.

How you eat can be as important as what you eat. Eating the right things at the right time will ease digestion, assure sound sleep and increase energy.

Weather, waves and a passing pod of orcas are memories to take home from a paddling trip, not indigestion.
Whether it’s the change in diet, the torso-rotating physical activity, squatting in the woods or all of the above, many a paddling trip is punctuated by digestive challenges. With a bit of digestion-savvy planning, however, you can easily prevent or remedy digestive complaints.

Ocean paddling would be difficult without an understanding of the ocean itself—the timing of its tides, speed of its currents and what influences its waves. The same is true for our digestive system. Fortunately, even a little digestion know-how can go a long way toward your food’s smooth trip through the digestive tract.
Many of my nutrition clients are amazed that they’ve never before considered how their bodies digest food. Most are excited to learn about digestion, and eager to help their digestive system function better.

Digestion 101 
The process of digestion is nothing less than miraculous. In the big picture, the digestive system’s purpose is to chemically process big, complex molecules into small, simpler molecules that can be absorbed into the body.

Technically, nutrients are not inside the body until they enter the bloodstream through the walls of the intestine. When our food is within our 30-foot long digestive tract—the long tube that runs from the mouth to the anus, including the esophagus, stomach, small intestine and large intestine (colon)—it’s actually considered outside of the body. The pancreas, gall bladder and liver are not a part of the digestive tract, but play important roles in the digestion process.

Digestion begins before we put food into our mouths. Seeing or smelling food, even thinking about it, can make your mouth water.  That “water” is your saliva, full of digestive enzymes.

Once food is well chewed into smaller bits, it travels down the esophagus, a 10- to 12-inch muscular tube. The food doesn’t just fall down to the stomach via gravity; it is gently pushed, at this and various other points throughout the entire digestive tract, with wave-like muscular motions known as peristalsis. The trap door between the esophagus and the stomach, called the cardiac sphincter, opens automatically.

In the stomach, food is churned into even smaller bits. Here food is also sterilized with stomach acid so we don’t absorb harmful microbes later on down the tract. Our stomach acid also activates more digestive enzymes.

Carbohydrates need the least time in the stomach, followed by proteins and finally fats. How long a meal stays in the stomach depends on many variables—such as what and how we eat—but in general you can count on carrying a full meal here for about four hours.

There’s very little chemical digestion—the processing of food into single molecules—taking place in the stomach. The only substances absorbed into the body directly through the stomach lining include alcohol, sugar and aspirin.

The well-mashed food in the stomach is called chyme. When the chyme is ready to move on, the pyloric sphincter opens and lets it pass into the small intestine, the hub of chemical digestion. As soon as the chyme hits the first section of the small intestine, the duodenum, a cascade of events takes place. The pancreas secretes alkaline juices to neutralize the stomach acid in the chyme and also provides all of the different enzymes necessary to complete the chemical digestion of the chyme into single molecules that can be absorbed into the body. Fat is broken down to fatty acids, protein to amino acids and carbohydrates to glucose.

There is also an opening from the gallbladder into the duodenum. When we eat a food that contains fat, the gallbladder will secrete bile to help with the digestion of fat. The gallbladder is only the storage and regulation tank for bile. It’s the liver that manufactures it.

As chyme travels along the 20- to 23-foot long small intestine, it is completely digested. Further along the small intestine, the individual nutrient molecules will be absorbed into the body through the intestine walls, which have billions of microvilli, tiny finger-like folds to further the surface area of the intestine wall. The protein and glucose are carried in the blood via the portal vein to the liver, which detoxifies, processes, packages and distributes the nutrients to the rest of the body. Most fats are carried to the liver via the lymph system.

The journey through the small intestine takes about six or so hours, but the process of digestion does not end when the nutrients are absorbed into the body. The left over, indigestible foodstuff, such as fiber, still needs to be eliminated from the tract. Whatever remains at the end of the small intestine, including a large amount of water, enters the large intestine via the ileocecal valve.

The large intestine, or colon, is less than five feet in length, but is 2.5 inches in diameter (three times the diameter of the small intestine). The colon produces no acid or alkaline juices or enzymes; its walls are smooth and devoid of microvilli. It is not a sterile place, and many bacteria, yeast, small fungi and algae thrive here. That’s a good thing in a healthy colon. In fact, many “friendly” bacteria make nutrients, such as B vitamins, and help to keep “unfriendly” bacteria in check, preventing disease.

The main job of the colon is processing indigestible material for elimination. It dries the chyme and absorbs the water into the body. Peristalsis moves the waste through the colon for up to 12 or more hours, ending up at the rectum for the final step of the digestive process.

The entire digestive process from beginning to end ideally takes about 18 hours.

Advice to Chew On
Digestion is the means by which we fuel and nourish our bodies, and when it doesn’t go well there will be consequences, from discomfort and embarrassing burps to more significant symptoms like fatigue, stomach pain and low energy. At worst, digestive imbalance can compromise safety and health. Diarrhea, for example (which can lead to dehydration) and constipation (which may cause discomfort and headache) can affect important trip decisions, paddling performance and overall pleasure.

Fortunately, there are many ways we can assure easy and effective digestion. The Journal of the American Medical Association recently reported that how we eat is often more important than what we eat. The article cited Pavlov’s classic studies on gastric secretion in dogs, reprinting advice from the Journal’s 1904 issue.
Pavlov’s studies went beyond dinner bells and salivating dogs. His research also demonstrated that when we (people) eat while thinking of things other than eating, especially in the case of anger and anxiety, food sits undigested in the stomach for many hours. The first way we can help digestion is to make time to eat.

In today’s gulp-and-gobble society, chewing our food is something of a lost art. More than a century ago, an American named Horace Fletcher—known as “the Great Masticator”—became a renowned advocate for chewing one’s way to health. Fletcher espoused chewing each mouthful 32 times until it became pure liquid, at which point a natural swallowing reflex is apparently activated. His theory became very popular, and avid chewers (or “Fletcherizers” as they came to be known) included John D. Rockefeller and Thomas Edison.

Fletcher was onto something. The more we chew, the more the nervous system relaxes, which is no coincidence since the parasympathetic nervous system controls digestion. As Pavlov suggested, when we are distracted from our food, especially by something stressful, the nervous system goes into fight-or-flight mode and diverts energy away from digestion. When food sits undigested in the stomach it decays, makings us feel bad and producing toxins that will be absorbed into the body.

If you take three deep, relaxing breaths before you begin to eat you’ll signal your body that it is safe to concentrate on digestion. This means not eating while you’re breaking camp, or even worse, while paddling. Even if you need a snack while in your boat, stop to take a breath and a moment to chew. If sea conditions are too dangerous to stop and chew, chances are it’s not a good time to eat anyway.

The more you chew, the more saliva and enzymes you release and the less work you leave for the stomach and intestines later on. Thorough chewing also helps to prevent the heavy feeling that sometimes follows a meal. By chewing more, you may become a slower eater—but realize that others who eat too fast will pay a price once they’re back on the water or tossing and turning in their tents.

Timing is Everything 
Coastal kayakers know that paddling is a lot easier when the tide is with you. Timing is also crucial to smooth digestion. Eating a meal right before you launch will often mean stomach pains, gas or discomfort of some kind while you’re paddling: If your body needs energy for movement, digestion will be put on hold. Allow at least an hour or two after a meal, when possible, before paddling again. If this isn’t possible, as is often the case with a quick lunch stop, eat lightly and choose easy-to-digest options such as a small amount of fat and protein with a larger amount of carbohydrate. Nut butter and veggies on whole grain bread is a good option.

Eating close to bedtime will result in your body digesting, not resting, for much of the night. Whenever possible, eat your evening meal before 7 p.m. A light snack before bed will carry you through the night without you needing to get into your secured food stash. But be sure to avoid sweets before bed. They will eventually result in a sugar low that makes a craving for more sugar and insomnia very likely.

Combinations Count 
A bit of care while deciding on food combinations will add up to better digestion. The most important food combination to avoid is sweets, including desserts, chocolate, candy and fruit, after a meal. Sweet foods, which are high in carbohydrates, are digested quickly. If they are eaten following a meal, their quick transport is interrupted by the other food. Picture your dessert or dried fruit sitting on top of your chili. What happens when fruit or sugar sits in a warm place for too long? It ferments (or rots). The sweets-after-a-meal habit is easily the biggest cause of gas and stomach upset in most people.

Kayakers love their sweets and fruit, I know. My suggestion is to eat them before your main meal, while you wait for your meal to cook, or alone as a midday snack.

Another poor food combination, in terms of digestion, is mixing a concentrated protein source with a high carbohydrate source; for example steak and potatoes, hamburger and a bun, pasta and ground beef, etc. My suggestion is to replace some of the meat and starch with more vegetables. I find that beans and grains with vegetables is an excellent meal combination that is easy and safe to make ahead of time and dehydrate.
Food and liquid don’t mix. Kayakers need to stay hydrated, yes, but drinking with meals is detrimental to good digestion. When we drink liquids with meals, we dilute the valuable digestive enzymes and stomach acid we need to carry out the process completely and successfully. If possible, avoid drinking (ideally an hour) before and after a meal.

Speaking of liquids, I’ve seen many a kayaker forego an extra pair of shoes or spare clothing to carefully secure bottles of wine and beer for their voyage. If you enjoy wine while you dine, try to keep your indulgence to small sips. Alcohol is basically sugar and toxins that the stomach and liver will have to process.

Rescuing Remedies 
Most of us eat a lot less fresh food while kayak tripping. Combine this with a change of routine, increased sweating and being on the go, and it’s no surprise that we have trouble with the final task of digestion: elimination.

Planning for optimal digestion means packing fiber. Dietary fiber is indigestible by the body, but plays an important role as it travels through the digestive tract helping to move wastes out of the intestines and keeping the intestines in good health. Fiber holds water, making stools soft to prevent constipation. Fiber also adds bulk, which makes a meal filling, and boosts immunity and energy.

Fresh food, especially green food such as spinach and kale, can be dehydrated to add fiber and nutrients to a meal. Fresh foods such as cucumbers, cherry tomatoes, zucchini, avocado, carrots, apples, snap peas and green beans will keep for up to a week when packed carefully and kept cool. Avoid eating too many processed foods, such as crackers, chips, nachos and energy bars, as they will promote constipation.

Flax seeds, which can be freshly ground in a coffee grinder during pre-trip preparation, are an excellent source of mucilaginous fiber. They absorb up to eight times their weight in water, thereby softening stools and making them easier to pass. Ground flax is easy to pack and a tablespoon can be sprinkled on anything from cereal and rice to soup and stew.

Yes, the folk remedy is true—prunes do help keep things moving. Soak five or more of them overnight and eat them in the morning along with the water they soaked in. Papaya and figs are also good bets to naturally and gently transition from a constipated state. A glass of warm water with lemon juice first thing in the morning will stimulate peristalsis and promote a good start to the day as well.

Another way to ensure easy digestion is to avoid eating or overeating difficult-to-digest foods. Meat contains no fiber and is, therefore, the most difficult-to-digest food choice. Dairy foods contain difficult-to-digest protein and an increasing number of people have difficulty digesting wheat. Keep meals simple, healthy and moderate for smooth processing. It’s better to eat less more often than a lot all at once.

Since a paddling trip isn’t always the easiest time to practice good digestion, it’s helpful to bring along some specific remedies to counteract and soothe any upsets. Ginger and peppermint teas are helpful for easing digestive upsets including gas, nausea and indigestion. You may want to invest in a bottle of digestive enzyme supplements to help ensure complete digestion.

Those of us who believe we have “strong” digestive systems and can eat anything anytime may be at the greatest risk for poor digestive health. If we never react to foods or notice the effects of poor digestion, chances are we are out of touch with our bodies. Viewing digestive upsets as normal is also a mistake. Ongoing digestive complaints may be common, but they are not normal or healthy. Besides, now that you know how your digestive system works best, you’ll notice more often how your habits and choices affect you, your paddling and your overall trip experience.

Your PFD—plan for digestion—is a valuable step toward more comfortable, safe and enjoyable kayaking.

While for the most part Ken is quite accurate in his descriptions of this “roadless coast” I think the benign conditions during the time the photographs were taken may entice many who lack the needed skills and experience to paddle this coast, or parts of it, much to their own peril. If the swell comes up quickly, as it often can, there are very few safe landing spots along this entire stretch of coast. See chapter five of Deep Trouble for a story about a day when one of the landings (up the river mouth at La Push) closed out. (Note: larger and longer swell travels faster so they arrive first from a distant storm. Therefore, the size of breakers tend to increase suddenly when the first waves from that storm arrive). One of the incidents described in chapter seven of Deep Trouble occurred along this coast but all the rest are open-coast accidents that could happen on the Washington coast. As Ken points out: “a kayak trip along the roadless coast requires advanced paddling skills.” Anyone attempting it should be skilled at Eskimo rolling and surfing, and also have a good forecast for swell and weather for the duration of the trip. They should also be prepared to wait out several days at a time in camps along the way if conditions deteriorate on them.

Ken accurately describes the currents near Cape Flattery as “tricky” and the conditions as “can be confused and dangerous” but then suggests crossing them to Tatoosh Island. At times, I’ve seen breakers form all the way across that gap due to the colliding of the swell and wind waves with the current. Be sure you understand how the currents are changing and might affect the sea state before setting out on this crossing. I’ve had to wait for several hours to get back to the mainland safely and was glad to not have been caught in transit when that breaking seas condition first set up. At any time, some parts of this crossing may be quite rough.

If the swell is anything but benign, only the more protected caves near or in the straits will likely be safe to explore. If a cave smells rank there are likely seals or sea lions in them that may resent your intrusion. The area around Fuca Pillar can be treacherous especially if bigger sets arrive during one’s transit. One better have their surf and rescue skill together before taking the risk. It has been my experience that the area between Fuca Pillar and Waatch Point is an area of larger swell except on the most benign days and in most cases no safe landing or even near-shore paddling would be possible. Because of some rocks in the middle, and the shape of the bay, dispersing the energy, the swell is much smaller in Makah Bay especially near Hobuck Beach. If you leave from Hobuck Beach (or any beach in Makah Bay) you may get the wrong idea about the real swell size you may soon be facing by going north or south from there, especially when rounding points.

Ken Campbell comments: It is possible, however, to take an outside line around Waatch Point, go around the point break, and still cut back left before the beach break of Hobuck starts to form. You can actually go from open ocean up into the protected waters of Waatch Creek without encountering surf. There is almost always a way, which is true elsewhere on the coast as well. I detailed some good landing spots in the article, but the reality is that there are a lot of them, it just depends on the conditions.

Point of Arches may be one of the “best kayak surfing spots” when the swell is low but if you don’t want to play in the breakers it should be given a wide berth by going well around it and not taking any shortcuts through the rocks and arches. If the swell isn’t small (and consistently so over a long time period), Point of Arches is an easy place to get trapped when a bigger set comes in. Except for the area just South of the point “the long strip of yellow” beach until south of the Ozette River is usually pounded by surf and one should stay well outside of the break line due to its shallows which may finds a bigger set breaking much further out than one might expect.

I’m pretty sure that the mudflow-covered village site it is at Cape Alava and that it was partially uncovered after 500 years by winter storms rather than by a flooding Ozette River. The mouth of the Ozette River is not on the reservation and has a much more treacherous landing (surf through scattered rocks at lower tides) than the Cape Alava site which is well protected by offshore islands.

If the swell isn’t too large you can slip in behind a pillar at Kayostla Beach without much drama. I don’t remember a lot of mainland “protected landing zones” between there and La Push though. It has been a long time since I paddled there so I may not be remembering accurately, or perhaps the swell was bigger or the tide was different for us than when Ken paddled there.

Ken Campbell comments: A partial list of great possible landing sites is as follows: Cedar Creek (my personal favorite), the creek mouth across from Sandy Island, the beach just north of Cape Johnson, and the Chilean Memorial beach. Of these, the only great campsites are at Cedar Creek; the other beaches disappear at high tide but make good stopping spots if the swell and the wind are amenable. 

The landing at First Beach that Ken recommends if the swell is out of the northwest is more treacherous than going up the river towards La Push. The river drives a strong current that speeds northward along First Beach.  If you capsize and bail out you and/or your kayak may be soon going out to sea again through the breakers right next to a rugged jetty. Unfortunately the smallest surf is likely to be nearer to the jetty making the choice of the worst hazard difficult. I’ve been there many times and played in the surf there often but I’ve never seen First Beach with small enough surf I’d risk landing a fully loaded sea kayak in. Best to round James Island and enter up the river (north of the south jetty) if breakers are too big to enter inside of James Island from the north.

Ken Campbell comments: I have begun and ended several trips with a loaded boat on this beach. Yes, there have been times when it wasn’t prudent, and I’ve gone elsewhere. Dangerous conditions can also arise in the route between James and Little James.

One day a friend and I were paddling south out of La Push. After going though (and a little the south of) the arch pictured in the article we stopped to have a snack and chat in our kayaks. We were planning to paddle more eastward along the shore there. After about 15 minutes we were just starting to move in that direction when a bigger set finally came in and covered a large rock-strewn area with large breakers. Just the area we had been looking at for some time and were intending to paddle through. That close call, and the wide spacing between the large sets that day, that made them seem to come out of nowhere, sent a shudder down my spine. We gave the more potentially dicey areas we already knew about, such as Toleak Point and the entrance to Goodman Creek, a wide berth that day.

I’ve not attempted to land much south of Goodman Creek but I’ve looked at Ruby Beach as a possible put in or take out for a kayak trip many different times from shore. I’ve never thought it looked like a good possibility for a trip with a gear load. If I had to do it one way or the other I’d choose departing from Ruby Beach rather than risk landing on a beach where there are many hazards that one can’t see from offshore. If one intends to land there I’d spend many hours during a large tide change (with reasonably large swell) studying and mapping the area and the locations of potential hazards first. The creek there can also be dangerous to cross on foot at times of higher water and the best landing area I’ve seen, behind and south of Abbey Island (a long walk from the road with gear and kayak), would require crossing that creek somehow.

Ken Campbell comments: The trail is a bear, no doubt about it, but again, it’s a fun beach when the waves are right. If the swell is good, it’s possible to get a nice long carve into shore here, but the beach is steep in spots, so a fast dismount is helpful. If it’s rough and scrappy, the rock garden at the north end of Ruby offers a few cheater routes into the beach. You’ll end up farther from the parking lot, but the landings are easier. I have paddled here with boats both loaded and unloaded on many occasions.

On Sunday, January 18, Freya Hoffmeister was awake and logged into her laptop by 5 a.m. For the few minutes that we talked on Skype—a computer-based video telephone service—she was an impressionistic lo-res blur on my computer screen, her face half hidden by a mane of hair as black as carbon fiber. We talked a bit before she had to get up and get going. I wished her well and logged off. After the call she had breakfast, put her hair up and headed out to paddle around a continent.

It’s easy to wonder why someone would devote a year to leave home and family behind to paddle 10,000 miles of unprotected ocean coast, “but it is in the nature of man to better his own achievement,” wrote trans-Atlantic kayaker Hannes Lindemann. “It is normal and healthy to strive continually for new records. Each newly established record, after all, makes a positive contribution by setting the limits of human achievement. In all of us there is an impulse—though it may be deeply hidden—to leave behind us our ordinary lives and go beyond the morning to seek our fortunes. This urge is usually thwarted in our time by the restricting responsibilities of family or society. Yet some continue to… explore the distances of the sea, dreaming of other coasts.”

In the years after Paul Caffyn’s circumnavigation of Australia, a few paddlers have dreamed of duplicating his feat—seven that Paul can confirm, and there are reports of five more. None of the attempts ended in disaster or rescue. Paddlers just decided to call an end to the effort.

Lindemann believed there was a way to keep a dream alive in the face of adversity: “Of major importance in my preparation was the need to create within myself the assurance of success. I had to rid myself of all traces of fear and self-doubt, so for three months I concentrated on the phrases: ‘I shall succeed’ and ‘I shall make it.’ At the end of the three months, my whole being was permeated by a strong conviction that I would succeed; that, no matter what happened, I would survive my trip. It was only then that I decided definitely to carry through my plan. The last weeks before the departure I fell into a mood of complete self-confidence. I had a feeling of cosmic security and protection and the certainty that my voyage would succeed.”

Freya has had her own version of Lindemann’s technique. She surrounds herself with “Rosie the Riveter” memorabilia. “Rosie” posters appeared during World War II with the image of a woman, hair in a bandana, her sleeve rolled up and bicep flexed. Above her was the proclamation, “We can do it!” Freya leaves little room in her thoughts for doubt. A week into her trip she was already visualizing its successful conclusion.

As we take this article to press, Freya has covered 170 nautical miles (316 kilometers) and has had two days where her distance for the day was 40 nautical miles (65 kilometers). I spoke to her by cell phone while she was forced off the water and windbound on Woodside Beach, Victoria.
What’s all the noise? Is it windy there?

Yes, I came down the beach because I wanted to get away from all of the flies. I put my tent back in the woods because it would have been blown off the beach. It’s blowing 20 to 30 knots and it’s quite rough out on the water. I can’t get away from the stinky smell of the seals on the beach just 100 meters away. My kayak is slowly getting buried in the sand in a little sand dune that’s piling up on it. It’s really blowing.

How many hours a day are you paddling?

Oh, between 10-and-a-half hours and 13, with one half day and today only one hour.

How have the paddling conditions been?

Mixed. From headwinds to following winds, from flat to roughish. Big swell on the first day, but then the swell was gone and there was only wind.

How do you pass the time on the water? If you’re out for 10 hours, what do you think about?

What am I thinking all day? For sure, quite a bit. How conditions are going to be, what I’m going to eat next, where the next landing is going to be, who’s the next contact, how I can get to the post office without spending half a day at it. Stuff like that. Logistics basically. I’m actually already thinking about how I’m going to sleep on the big crossing [of the Gulf of Carpenteria], so I’m thinking quite far ahead. I’m visualizing my final arrival already and stuff like that. So there’s a lot to think about. I’ve had a problem paddling with closed eyes right now because I’m having trouble steering. If I can’t paddle with closed eyes it’s horrible. It doesn’t relax me. 

How has the camping been?

You want to have a bug-free zone at night, otherwise you get crazy. On that half day two days ago I was sitting there [in the tent] sweating like hell because I didn’t want to get eaten up by the bugs. I’m still kind of scared about the critters in the Australian bush. I saw a 1-cm-long scorpion crawling in the sand, and I didn’t want him on me. A tiny one but it was there. In New Zealand it was really easy. You could go in the bush and not be worried about anything. But here there are spiders and snakes and scorpions and…I even saw a huge parrot at night beside my camp that I really wasn’t sure wasn’t going to peck on my equipment outside. There are so many things here in the bush that I’m not 100% sure about. In the next section there are ticks as well. There are all these critters that I have to get used to and that’s why I want a closed, zipped-up tent. I need some space in it to spread out my office and my kitchen.

  I’ve got so many emails to write. I’m not getting much time to write at all. At night you’re just so bloody tired from paddling the whole day. When you’re 12 or 13 hours on the water, you can imagine. Then you get the tent up, cook, check the schedule, the weather, the maps. 

   It would be nice to put up the tent, eat and relax, but then I have to think about blog updating, emailing, satellite messages. It’s really quite a bit. It’s very different to Paul’s [Caffyn] trip 27 years ago. At some point I’ll write a comparison. No doubt it must have been nice to travel in an empty boat [Caffyn had a support crew on land] and have dinner cooked and camp set up and not have to worry about any communication problems. But it will all settle down when everything is working. My Australian email is working. I can get on the web when I have cell phone reception. It’s getting much easier.  

One of our readers questioned how safe it is to do a long expedition to set a record.

Well, I’m challenging myself by pushing myself to the limit, no doubt about it, and I’m out on some days when other people would have gone in already because I just enjoy it. Two days ago when I paddled one hour against that bloody headwind, everybody else would have cancelled, everybody. And I really enjoyed that. It was kind of painful to go against an offshore wind but I was able to get to shore and get where I wanted to go. It was fun.
   You haven’t asked me how my body is keeping up. 

Oh, OK, how is your body keeping up?

Well I was bloody tired the first days on the water and taking frequent power naps, just relaxing by lying there doing nothing for minutes almost. That’s why I was taking quite long hours for not much distance. But all my joints and tendons are very good, nothing aching, just the muscles. They were achy as hell because I did long hours that first day. I should have done a couple of hours and then given up for the day, but that’s no way for me. I was amazed that I got blisters. Five or six. I usually don’t get any, but in these conditions I’m pushing myself that hard on the first days. But that’s all right. They don’t hurt when I’m on the water, but at night they do.

Do you think you’ll be able to keep pushing this hard?

How you eat can be as important as what you eat. Eating the right things at the right time will ease digestion, assure sound sleep and increase energy.

While for the most part Ken is quite accurate in his descriptions of this “roadless coast” I think the benign conditions during the time the photographs were taken may entice many who lack the needed skills and experience to paddle this coast, or parts of it, much to their own peril. If the swell comes up quickly, as it often can, there are very few safe landing spots along this entire stretch of coast. See chapter five of Deep Trouble for a story about a day when one of the landings (up the river mouth at La Push) closed out. (Note: larger and longer swell travels faster so they arrive first from a distant storm. Therefore, the size of breakers tend to increase suddenly when the first waves from that storm arrive). One of the incidents described in chapter seven of Deep Trouble occurred along this coast but all the rest are open-coast accidents that could happen on the Washington coast. As Ken points out: “a kayak trip along the roadless coast requires advanced paddling skills.” Anyone attempting it should be skilled at Eskimo rolling and surfing, and also have a good forecast for swell and weather for the duration of the trip. They should also be prepared to wait out several days at a time in camps along the way if conditions deteriorate on them.

Ken accurately describes the currents near Cape Flattery as “tricky” and the conditions as “can be confused and dangerous” but then suggests crossing them to Tatoosh Island. At times, I’ve seen breakers form all the way across that gap due to the colliding of the swell and wind waves with the current. Be sure you understand how the currents are changing and might affect the sea state before setting out on this crossing. I’ve had to wait for several hours to get back to the mainland safely and was glad to not have been caught in transit when that breaking seas condition first set up. At any time, some parts of this crossing may be quite rough.

If the swell is anything but benign, only the more protected caves near or in the straits will likely be safe to explore. If a cave smells rank there are likely seals or sea lions in them that may resent your intrusion. The area around Fuca Pillar can be treacherous especially if bigger sets arrive during one’s transit. One better have their surf and rescue skill together before taking the risk. It has been my experience that the area between Fuca Pillar and Waatch Point is an area of larger swell except on the most benign days and in most cases no safe landing or even near-shore paddling would be possible. Because of some rocks in the middle, and the shape of the bay, dispersing the energy, the swell is much smaller in Makah Bay especially near Hobuck Beach. If you leave from Hobuck Beach (or any beach in Makah Bay) you may get the wrong idea about the real swell size you may soon be facing by going north or south from there, especially when rounding points.

Ken Campbell comments: It is possible, however, to take an outside line around Waatch Point, go around the point break, and still cut back left before the beach break of Hobuck starts to form. You can actually go from open ocean up into the protected waters of Waatch Creek without encountering surf. There is almost always a way, which is true elsewhere on the coast as well. I detailed some good landing spots in the article, but the reality is that there are a lot of them, it just depends on the conditions.

Point of Arches may be one of the “best kayak surfing spots” when the swell is low but if you don’t want to play in the breakers it should be given a wide berth by going well around it and not taking any shortcuts through the rocks and arches. If the swell isn’t small (and consistently so over a long time period), Point of Arches is an easy place to get trapped when a bigger set comes in. Except for the area just South of the point “the long strip of yellow” beach until south of the Ozette River is usually pounded by surf and one should stay well outside of the break line due to its shallows which may finds a bigger set breaking much further out than one might expect.

I’m pretty sure that the mudflow-covered village site it is at Cape Alava and that it was partially uncovered after 500 years by winter storms rather than by a flooding Ozette River. The mouth of the Ozette River is not on the reservation and has a much more treacherous landing (surf through scattered rocks at lower tides) than the Cape Alava site which is well protected by offshore islands.

If the swell isn’t too large you can slip in behind a pillar at Kayostla Beach without much drama. I don’t remember a lot of mainland “protected landing zones” between there and La Push though. It has been a long time since I paddled there so I may not be remembering accurately, or perhaps the swell was bigger or the tide was different for us than when Ken paddled there.

Ken Campbell comments: A partial list of great possible landing sites is as follows: Cedar Creek (my personal favorite), the creek mouth across from Sandy Island, the beach just north of Cape Johnson, and the Chilean Memorial beach. Of these, the only great campsites are at Cedar Creek; the other beaches disappear at high tide but make good stopping spots if the swell and the wind are amenable. 

The landing at First Beach that Ken recommends if the swell is out of the northwest is more treacherous than going up the river towards La Push. The river drives a strong current that speeds northward along First Beach.  If you capsize and bail out you and/or your kayak may be soon going out to sea again through the breakers right next to a rugged jetty. Unfortunately the smallest surf is likely to be nearer to the jetty making the choice of the worst hazard difficult. I’ve been there many times and played in the surf there often but I’ve never seen First Beach with small enough surf I’d risk landing a fully loaded sea kayak in. Best to round James Island and enter up the river (north of the south jetty) if breakers are too big to enter inside of James Island from the north.

Ken Campbell comments: I have begun and ended several trips with a loaded boat on this beach. Yes, there have been times when it wasn’t prudent, and I’ve gone elsewhere. Dangerous conditions can also arise in the route between James and Little James.

One day a friend and I were paddling south out of La Push. After going though (and a little the south of) the arch pictured in the article we stopped to have a snack and chat in our kayaks. We were planning to paddle more eastward along the shore there. After about 15 minutes we were just starting to move in that direction when a bigger set finally came in and covered a large rock-strewn area with large breakers. Just the area we had been looking at for some time and were intending to paddle through. That close call, and the wide spacing between the large sets that day, that made them seem to come out of nowhere, sent a shudder down my spine. We gave the more potentially dicey areas we already knew about, such as Toleak Point and the entrance to Goodman Creek, a wide berth that day.

I’ve not attempted to land much south of Goodman Creek but I’ve looked at Ruby Beach as a possible put in or take out for a kayak trip many different times from shore. I’ve never thought it looked like a good possibility for a trip with a gear load. If I had to do it one way or the other I’d choose departing from Ruby Beach rather than risk landing on a beach where there are many hazards that one can’t see from offshore. If one intends to land there I’d spend many hours during a large tide change (with reasonably large swell) studying and mapping the area and the locations of potential hazards first. The creek there can also be dangerous to cross on foot at times of higher water and the best landing area I’ve seen, behind and south of Abbey Island (a long walk from the road with gear and kayak), would require crossing that creek somehow.

Manufacturer’s Design Statement: Many ranges of polyethylene kayaks now include a model deemed suitable for the sea. “Let’s fill the gap, let’s design a sea kayak.” At P&H we manufacture a range of world-class sea kayaks we have been doing so since 1979. The Capella is our first polyethylene sea kayak, and it has drawn upon the very limits of our knowledge, expertise and energy.
…….The kayak is aimed at the paddler who wants the exceptional durability and cost benefits of a polyethylene sea kayak, yet would like the performance of a fiberglass model. The Capella’s 22″ beam means that it falls in the middle of most sea kayak ranges, providing an ideal balance between the desirable attributes of forward speed and stability.
…….The kayak is 16′ 5″ in length, ensuring that it is ideally suited to all-around kayaking, long enough (and therefore fast enough) for sorties across open bays, while retaining enough maneuverability for coastal exploring. Though we refer to the Capella as a sea kayak, it is also ideal for touring lakes, estuaries and fjords. We are proud of our new kayak and hope that you will like it. P&H

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Reviewers: 
TS 5’10”, 165-pound male. Several day trips and one overnight with camping gear. Winds to 15 knots.
VS 5’2″, 160-pound female. Day trip in calm seas with light breeze.
CC 5’7″, 140-pound female. Light winds, three- to four-foot swells. Two- to four-foot breakers on shore.

 

…….”Graceful lines make this a pretty boat” (TS). CC noted that the “attention to detail in the construction looks high, and the kayak felt pretty rigid for a plastic kayak.” The Capella was comfortable and balanced well for a solo carry. The hand grips are “well placed at the very ends of the kayak [and] are long enough to keep the fingers from being trapped if the boat spins” (CC).
…….The Capella’s recessed deck fittings are fitted with a grab line around the perimeter and shock cord across the deck. VS and CC noted that the shock cords behind the cockpit cross under a deck fitting on the centerline. The deck fitting gets in the way of slipping a paddle bade under the shock cord for a paddle float rescue. They recommend loosening the recessed deck fitting and releasing the bungies from it.
…….The accommodations of the Capella drew high marks. “For me, this cockpit really works. I could get in and out of it easily, and the seat was great. The padded knee braces are really comfy and well shaped and placed” (VS). “I was impressed with the cockpit because its beefy thigh braces were comfortable and allowed for excellent control of the kayak. I was confident enough of my fit in the boat to take it out in two- to four-foot breaking surf” (CC). TS thought that the height of the forward end of the cockpit was “too high for comfortable Greenland-style paddling, but fine for a large-bladed paddling style.” CC sat comfortably in the seat for three hours. TS felt the seat and low back support facilitated “active paddling, bracing and rolling.”
…….The foot braces are easily adjustable and provide solid support. The Capella is equipped with a retractable skeg, which is “simple and effective” (TS) in adjusting the tracking of the boat and in countering weathercocking. During one launching, TS discovered a pebble had jammed the skeg in its case. Pushing on the control cable to force the skeg down only kinked the cable where it meets the skeg. To avoid damaging the cable, the skeg should be pulled down directly by hand. A paddling partner can reach under the boat to free it if necessary.
…….”The Capella has a sporty feel without feeling excessively tippy. [It has] comfortable secondary stability when put on edge” (TS). “A light initial stability and a nice secondary stability. This is the feel I prefer in a boat, easy to lean, with a feel of security at a secondary point” (VS).
…….”Without the skeg deployed, the Capella responded to leaned turns quite well, in fact too well. In flat water it showed a tendency to yaw” noted TS. CC, however, thought the Capella tracked “pretty well” without the skeg, and was easy to steer using paddle strokes. With the skeg down, the Capella “tracked like it was on a train track” (TS). With the skeg partially deployed, VS found the Capella “was nicely maneuverable without falling off course too readily. TS, in 15-knot winds, noted that the Capella weathercocked without the skeg, but could be made to hold course with the skeg deployed.
…….The foredeck sheds water well and doesn’t throw spray. At cruising speed all of our reviewers noted that the Capella kept pace easily with other boats: “no problems keeping up with the fast boats in the group” (TS). “It picks up speed well and can hold it without having to be driven” (VS).
…….”Wheeee! The Capella surfed wind waves quite well. The excellent cockpit and knee braces made control easy and the bow didn’t pearl. Handled the shore break well for a sea kayak—I got some nice rides in it. I did not feel the Capella flexing a lot as I have in other plastic kayaks” (CC). “Accelerated well to catch passing swells. Fun and effective with the skeg deployed and maddening when it was stuck” (TS).
…….The large hatches make it easy to load the kayak. The polyethylene bulkheads are welded into the kayak. Only VS reported water getting into the aft compartment. TS thought he could easily pack enough gear in the Capella for a week-long trip. With an overnight load aboard, he noted, the boat handled well and “became more stable and tracked better.”
…….TS thought the Capella’s skeg deployment needed improvement, but overall thought “the Capella has the potential of being a really fun intermediate-level touring craft.” “One of the better designs in a poly kayak. A boat for both the experienced kayaker and the newbie” (VS). “Some people assume that because a kayak is plastic it is inferior to a fiberglass boat. The Capella will change their minds. You get a lot of kayak for the money. It is sharp in appearance, well made and handles wind and surfs well, and has one of the best cockpit designs I have seen in a kayak. And you don’t have to go into bankruptcy to buy it” (CC). 
Designer Response …….We are very pleased with the review and would like to thank all of those involved with testing the kayak. We are particularly pleased that all our efforts in seat design and sitting position were noticed—our “are you siting comfortably?” policy has been a major factor in our design work during the last few years.
…….A few comments were made about the skeg sticking if obstructed (i.e. by a small stone, etc.), and leading to the wire at the hand-operated slider possibly “kinking.” The slider on all P&H sea kayaks was already under review and has now been redesigned. The slider itself now runs along a stainless steel bar and subsequently is much less likely to be kinked. This allows for much more positive results when pushing the slider to help dislodge any skeg obstruction.
…….All P&H hatch systems (glassfibre and polyethylene kayaks) are certified 100% airtight when leaving P&H. Welding bulkheads into polyethylene sea kayaks is a difficult and technical operation but is by far the best method.
…….For those of you opting for glassfibre, the Capella is now available in glassfibre. It is easy to produce a “sea kayak” but very hard work designing an excellent sea kayak. Here at P&H we have been designing sea kayaks since 1978, and we hope that nearly two decades of knowledge is apparent in our designs.
…….For those on the Internet, our web site is a good source of further information: http://www.phcompany.co.uk, email [email protected]. We are always pleased to hear your comments. Our distributors in the USA and Canada will be pleased to hear from you and send you a copy of our new 1997 Ocean Exploration brochure. Thank you Sea Kayaker for testing the Capella. 
The P&H Company
Options and Pricing (1996 design)
Standard Lay-up: rotomolded polyethylene, welded polyethylene bulkheads
Standard Features: retractable skeg, deck lines, recessed deck fittings, hatches and bulkheads. Check with dealer to see if thigh grips are included.
Approximate Weight: 58.6 lbs.
Price: Set by individual distributors and dealers.
Availability:
U.S. distributor
Impex International
1107 Station Road, Bldg. 1
Belleport, NY 11713
Phone (516) 2862988
Canadian distributor
Sea-Trek Sports Ltd.
9813 3rd Street
Sidney B.C. V8L 3A6
Phone (250) 656-9888 Eastern Outdoors, Brunswick Sq. 39 King Street
St. John, NB E2L 4W3
Phone (506) 6342530
Mid Canada Fiberglass Ltd.
Box 1599
New Liskeard, ON, P0J 1P0
Phone (705) 647-6698