Disclaimer: This is the English avatar (not exactly a translation, though close) of a Spanish-language blog. I am not a native English speaker, so I would ask readers to bear kindly with this attempt (possibly too bold) and the mistakes it will entail and to accept the apologies for them I offer in advance here.




miércoles, 30 de enero de 2008

For the Joy

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Photograph | Inuit & kayak, Coppermine River, NT, 1917(?) | MP-0000.597.459

With their fast, and tippy looks, the kayaks of the Caribou Inuit have attracted my attention since I first knew of them. No doubt, the slender end horns at bow and stern are largely to blame. They contribute to the image of a long, narrow, graceful boat and, initially at least, also add a slightly eccentric air to it. Their function was not immediately apparent to me and they seemed almost some sort of ornament, an oddity in craft with such an utilitarian reputation as traditional Arctic kayaks.

However, according to the studies of Eugene Arima, the horns are actually quite useful and serve a number of functions. Most seem related to the lack of stability of narrow kayaks with rounded hulls. For instance, the horns allow an assistant to steady the thin and nervous craft when departing or returning. The stern horn of a kayak coming to the rescue after a capsize provides in its base a place to hang on for the victim and the one of the upturned kayak can be (after righting the boat) tucked under the rescuer's arm allowing him to tow it. The base of the horns also provide anchor points for the poles used to join two or more kayaks in a raft to face rough seas or to carry goods with such narrow boats. I wonder if the horns of McKenzie Delta kayaks, which share some characteristics with Caribou kayaks, are mere coincidence. From the end of the bow horn, two red, spoon-shaped ornaments could be hung to swing merrily as kuviahunnihautik ("for the joy").



I like this last function. It indicates that paddling just for the pleasure of it was known and recognized by the traditional users of these kayaks and had its place among the dominant, more practical uses. For some reason, I enjoy thinking that not only gear and techniques trace its ancestry to Arctic kayaking traditions, but also what I consider the ethos of sea kayaking as we practice it today.

If you think a bit about it, it was to be expected.

viernes, 18 de enero de 2008

Link

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A thread in the Kayak de Mar forum has eventually meandered to questions about potential historical Spanish relationships with native Arctic kayakers. Mention was made of the Spanish exploration of the Pacific Northwest, its traces in the present toponymy of the area and possible contacts between those explorers and kayak-using peoples. Some hurried Net surfing indicates that, at least, this Spanish presence would be at the root of a sort of "Spanish Connection" in the sea kayaking world.



Among the touring range of the prestigious and scarily expensive Werner paddles the "Camano" model shines by its popular acceptance and the awards it has received. Not so long ago, a model called "San Juan" used to be part of Werner's catalog as well. Both took their names from two islands, not too far from each other (Puget Sound and the south end of the Georgia Strait, respectively). "Camano" happens to be what time and non-native speakers have made of the family name of the explorer Jacinto Caamaño Moraleja for whom the island was named. Similarly, San Juan Island honors through his patron saint the then viceroy of New Spain and committed fosterer of exploration, Juan Vicente de Güemes Padilla Horcasitas y Aguayo, second count of Revillagigedo.

Indirect, nothing but a curiosity and totally unrelated to traditional kayaking, but connection nonetheless. Perhaps it is a sign of more and better to be found.

jueves, 17 de enero de 2008

Inflatable Tradition

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Great advances in materials and design of inflatable kayaks are providing increasingly high performance to paddlers attracted to the portability, compact size and lightness of these models. And it would seem they might claim quite direct links to traditional Arctic paddling too.

I don't know if I'll be able to resist their allure now.


viernes, 11 de enero de 2008

Firsts

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After almost two months where all my paddling had been mental (courtesy of colds, busy schedules and awful weather connected in clever succession) I did some of the real thing on Thursday. Despite unpromising forecasts, the weather behaved very reasonably and it turned out a lovely outing.

Upon some idle musing, I noticed that a really substantial number of "first times" were happening for me on this particular paddle. Not only it was my first in 2008, more relevantly, it would also be my first longer than 20 km. Substantially longer in fact, as we were aiming for a bit over 42 km for the round trip. I was also going to be trying my brand new Chota mukluks, paddling with gloves and visiting Bolarque Reservoir for the first time and, while I had already paddled with Jaime (aka Borrasca), the other two members of the group I knew only from the forum and hadn't met in person. Oh, and it was just by chance, a matter of a couple of hours, that I wasn't using a completely new paddle as well.



With some many experiments going on at once, I was half expecting one or more to go terribly wrong. Well, I'm happy to report that didn't happen. Due to a delayed put in and a desire to get back in the car while some daylight remained, Jaime and I ended paddling a bit less than 40 km (Sergio and Arturo, our more eager and faster companions, added some 5-6 extra kms to that), but I didn't feel particularly tired and, to my surrprise, neither arms nor shoulders were aching (not even sore or stiff) the following day. I did "notice" the trapezius, rhomboids and obliques, though nothing really serious either. Arturo and Sergio proved to be very nice chaps. The mukluks performed splendidly, keeping my feet dry and warm and, while I didn't particularly care for the feeling of increased loom thickness elicited by the gloves, I found it an acceptable trade off for warmer hands.



Bolarque turned out to be a beautiful place. Lonely, quiet and peaceful, it sported great landscape, clear waters and abundant bird life. There were coots, mallards and cormorants by the hundreds, but also gadwalls and a few pochards, numerous grey herons, kingfishers and vultures in the steep rock walls on the banks. The fog that prevailed for most of the day lend the area a melancholic air which I thought enhanced its looks. Jaime and Sergio sought to register the sights in a number of pictures, including those they have kindly lent me to illustrate this entry.

All in all, a very enjoyable paddle. I'll take it as a good omen for 2008.

viernes, 4 de enero de 2008

With a little help...

Model plane |  | M978.75.26


Not exactly from my friends (save in the indirect, diffuse way in which just having friends helps with everything), but my Greenland paddle shows progress and that's in great measure thanks to the help I'm having. It comes mostly from two sources. First, the Kayak de Mar Forum, where kind, knowledgeable souls have posted what amounts to very useful tutorials on tool tuning and use, basic woodworking in general and making of Greenland paddles in particular. My paddle-in-the-making and I are living proof of the practical value of the wisdom to be found there, as that's pretty much the only instruction I've ever received in those matters. One of these days I'll ramble about the forum in greater length. You've been warned


Carving |  | M978.75.32


Then, major help is also coming from the tools themselves. Without any further experience, I might not be the best judge. I'm sure a connoisseur would take issue with the edge of my planes and spokeshaves, but I can tell that I'm doing things I doubted I could. At least, not without lots of suffering and frustration. Things so basic and simple that it'd be embarrassing to recount them here, yes, but for me it's substantial advance. The time spent properly conditioning the tools seems to be paying off now. We're definitely building a relationship here and it is allowing me a glimpse of the roots of the respect and care true artisans show to the instruments of their craft.

Model saw |  | M978.75.31


Using tools and watching them consistently do what they are supposed to do is proving quite rewarding and a vivid reminder of our dependence on them. I'll leave further elaboration on that to cultural anthropologists, but I have now experienced first hand how good tools can really make your day as much as poor ones can totally ruin it. And that's for just a hobby. When tools are employed to produce the means of earning your livelihood, I imagine your interest in them becomes something quite deeper than my idle wonder. I suppose that the attention European woodworking tools appear to have attracted from Inuit carvers may be related to that.


Compass |  | M978.76.28


The Inuit produced ivory carvings to trade with westerners. Besides native themes, the carvings frequently reproduced foreign objects, often in minute detail. The diversity of those objects is truly notable and that includes woodworking tools. While not so abundant as the very numerous model riffles and knives in my admittedly hurried and unsystematic glance through online materials, models of tools seemed, nonetheless, reasonably common.


Model drill |  | M978.75.33

jueves, 3 de enero de 2008

Eskimo Roll II. Kitunarautaq: further details

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Two posts below I speculated about the tricks King Island kayakers employed to roll their craft. I particularly wondered about paddler/boat connection (required to transmit the forces generated by the former) in such roomy kayaks. Well, the bountiful Net and a bit of luck have greatly cleared that.

Issue #4 of Volume XIII of the Journal of the American Whitewater Affiliation (spring, 1968), contains an article by the late John Heath describing King Island kayaks and kayaking practice. Interesting stuff (for me, at least) is plentiful. Among other things, we are told that King Island paddlers sat upright in the middle of the wide cockpint, without any backrest, and that the kayaker hooked his flexed knees under the deck beam immediately fore of the cockpit to become locked with his boat. One question answered.




Besides, the paper provides a detailed description of the rolling technique, explanatory graphics included. I see little point in my glossing it here for an English-speaking audience that can go directly to the source, but I can say I found it very interesting. Oh, and the rest of the pictures were also most enjoyable. Definitely, recommended reading.



Once again, the Net has come to the rescue of my idle curiosity. And, once again, it has answered one question and prompted several others. Namely, I've learned of another piece by John Heath published in Sea Kayaker in winter 1986 describing the rolling techniques of Nunivak Island and Kotzebue Sound, also in Alaska. To my understanding, Kotzebue Sound is the border between two major kayak types, the relatively short and wide boats of the Bering Sea and Strait to the South, and the long and slender ones of North Alaska to the north and east. I can't help but wondering for which one is the Kotzebue Sound roll. A reference to it being performed with the single-blade paddle, even though the double-bladed one was preferred for most other uses, is intriguing, as North Alaskan kayaks seem to have been paddled mostly with double paddles.

Unfortunately, Sea Kayaker's store seems to have run out of the pertinent issue.