Interior Kayak

Hiatus

2009-12-31T01:30:00.000-08:00

A much welcome stint of paddling interrupted for a while the building (I've already returned to it, however, and there's some progress. Ribs and keel stringer installed. Working on the chine stringers. Updates soon).

I went to Gijón, northern coast, to paddle with Xabier (whose beautiful S&G Night Heron accompanies my own Fun Run Sedna in the pic above) and a bunch of other local paddlers. They are forming a sea kayak association (AKDMA, Asociación Kayak de Mar Asturias) somewhat after the example of the neighboring and successful AGKM and ACKM in Galicia and Cantabria, respectively. By the way, a sizeable group of Cantabrian paddlers showed up as well.

Saturday afternoon, however, Xabier and I were on our own. Conditions were interesting. Close to 3 m of steep (7 s period) waves and NE F4-5 winds. We briefly tested the situation out in Gijón Bay and promptly turned back to El Arbeyal, our very protected launch beach for a bit of surfing (rarely possible there). Fun time and some nice rides (mostly Xabier's) that ended up with my swimming when a successful roll after a capsize righted me just in a time for a second wave to play with me. Proof (not that it was needed) that solid back sculling can be very useful and is not just a trick to impress onlookers.

Sunday morning, the air was definitely colder (snow later in the day) and things at sea were, if anything, slightly more interesting. The videos should give an idea, though, as always, it now looks tamer on them than it did when in the middle of it.

We started on the intended route, nonetheless, with sea and wind from the bow. That I found quite manageable, but I worried about a substantial return leg with those same conditions as following, or rear quartering seas, which I always find far less comfortable. Therefore, when after a brief while a small group proposed turning back, I adhered with an inner sigh of relief.

Back at El Arbeyal, it was some more surfing and a bit of rolling and it was fun. Added to the paddling was the time spent with Xabier and his family around Gijón enjoying talk, food and cider. All in all, a great weekend.

Note: As usual, pics and vids not mine. They are here courtesy of Edu, a Cantabrian fellow paddler.

Stem plates

2009-12-10T11:35:00.000-08:00

A.k.a. breast hooks, transition plates, etc. I went with Morris rather than Cunningham and used thinnish plates. Ash from a scrap at the bow and plywood at the stern.

It is really, a rather minor advance, notwithstanding that it took me quite a while to get the plates in place. So minor it is highly dubious that such small progress merits a blog entry. Well, maybe not by itself. However, the very gentle curve of the ash bow plate was obtained by bending it after 15 minutes in boiling water and that was a first for me. A sort of very, very light introduction to the daunting mysteries of steam bending. Also, installing the plates meant abundant use of the chisel and I have discovered it is a tool I really enjoy utilizing. And the fun didn't end just there. The final shaping was almost exclusively a spokeshave job, probably my favorite tool of all.

But most of all, the finished plates signal that installing the ribs comes next and with it the exciting steam bending, which, of course, has me quite worried.

Stern piece and chines

2009-12-02T14:42:00.000-08:00

Well, the stern piece is in place now (as in the previous post, the pic is upside down, to show how it will look in the finished product). It didn't come out as neatly as the bow stem, but I think it will still work.

That's one good thing about SOF building: you can feel great when if you totally nail it, but if you don't, it is likely it will still do and you don't have to fight impulses of setting the whole thing on fire that sheer frustration can elicit.

And one good thing of having those forms I built at the very beginning of the project in place is that you can fool around in many ways instead of doing real work.

For example, I could put the chine stringers (not yet processed) in what will more or less be their positions and check how things look. The hull shape that can be surmised seems, in my opinion, to match well the nautical software prediction of a rather stable boat for its beam. It also seems that the secondary chine will also be present and roughly where it should be, etc...

Mostly, it was fun just watching and imagining.

Bow stem

2009-12-02T00:36:00.001-08:00

The pic above (turned upside down for aesthetic purposes, by the way) documents some minor additional progress. The bow stem piece has been installed.

With tolerable success, I dare say, judging from the parallelism test.

Rituals

2009-11-28T14:45:00.000-08:00

This photograph (typically, a better version of it) also seems to be a frequent part of the ritual that accompanies the building of traditional qajaqs in the Western world. At times, it seems there would be a vague corpus of prescriptions that if you fail to observe your qajaq won't track true, will be slow and will leak

Edward S. Curtis recorded how in Nunivak Island, during the winter kayaks were built inside the giya, the men's house, amidst abundant ceremony. The event involved the whole community and an elaborate ritual. Participants wore specific clothes or were partially or totally naked, as required at different stages. Prescribed foods carried in particular recipients were consumed and the men whispered their secret hunting songs and sung out their childbirth songs to their new kayaks.

Sometimes, I wonder if posting pictures and keeping blogs is not what we do instead. Ways in which we keep involving a community, somewhat diffuse nowadays, in something that continues to be important for us (not to the same extent, of course. Usually, our livelihood is not linked to the qajaqs we build).

Compulsory ribs

2009-11-27T11:40:00.001-08:00

I am under the impression that this photo, or some variant of it, is pretty much a major requirement for any semi-respectable qajaq building blog. Therefore, fuzzy and low quality, but here it is.

Wood is American ash (thanks Javier). Sawn quite a while ago and, hence, quite dry. Accordingly they'll be soaking for at least a week, probably more.

3D

2009-11-27T01:06:00.000-08:00

I rescued the forms/spreaders from the wood pile and returned them to their original positions along the gunwales. Then, I used them to temporarily set the the keelson in its proper position and, suddenly, the qajaq gained a third dimension.

It became an object with volume and I confess the effect did strike me quite a bit. For a while, I just stood there looking at the arrangements, or, perhaps, rather contemplating what they suggested about the future boat. As far as I can judge, it seemed all quite pleasing, though old doubts about being able to get inside did creep back at times.

The initial plan was having the keelson in place so I could determine its intersection with the end pieces, accordingly finish shaping those, set them up and, then, with end pieces and keelson temporarily in place, estimate rib lengths.

Then, I realized the keelson was already at its, proper intended depth and the end pieces were not actually required to for measuring ribs. This should allow me to cut and prepare the rib stock and set it to soaking while I finish the end pieces, build a bending jig and and get ready the steaming apparatus (thanks for the box, Xabier).

So, I've set to it.

Templates are your friend

2009-11-26T11:43:00.000-08:00

At least, they are mine. Definitely.

Building a replica, particularly if it is the first qajaq (actually, the first thing) you build has its problems, but, for a guy like me, it also has some advantages. You don't get to choose (and, therefore, worry) about length, width, rocker, draft or the shape of bow and stern. Supposedly, you found all those features, at the very, very least, acceptable in the original that caught your fancy. Instead, you get to worry about reproducing them in a reasonably faithful manner.

Such a situation affords many opportunities for the use of templates. Of course, I am using most of them. Among the global uncertainty that, for good or bad, will only be solved the day the qajaq is launched, templates provide most welcome interludes of relative safety. As the pics show, shaping the stem pieces has just presented me with one of these precious moments.

And it seems to be working.

Note: Bow piece at the top, stern piece at the bottom.

Progress

2009-11-25T14:52:00.000-08:00

After quite a while, I've returned to working on the future qajaq. I am tackling the stem pieces so, with the aid of the forms I can do a mock installation of the keelson and, from there, estimate rib lengths.

As usual, it's proved exciting, with moments of doubt, moments when you are certain that you have messed up things big time and the moments of immense relief when you realize you either actually had it right, or it wasn't so bad, after all.

In any case, there's some advance.

Γοργοπόταμος

2009-11-06T05:12:00.000-08:00

That is, Gorgopotamos.

Which means something like "rushing river" and is the name of a village and, more relevantly, a river in Greece, in the Phtiotis, near its capital city of Lamia, some 250 km north of Athens.

"More relevantly", not because said river provides, as far as I can tell, any good paddling. Well, maybe it does outside the stretch I know. Rather, because, in that part, it forms a canyon (readers of exceptional fidelity and memory may remember that I consider canyoning and paddling activities that essentially share the same ethos, though).

Actually, it forms a big canyon. A canyon, perhaps not very famous, but with a certain reputation, often considered among the greatest in Europe and, possibly, the world. The reputation probably has something do with its having lots of water (so much at times that some years it has not been descended at all) and no known exits once you are in and with its 4.5 km in which it goes down 850 m. But also with things about which those numbers don't say anything: its enormous beauty and grandeur, the magnificent spruce forests of its headwaters and a certain feeling of remoteness and epic loneliness that pervades the whole activity.

It happened that our Dolomismo friends, Santi and Annabella, were on climbing-canyoning holidays in the Balkans in early Ocotber, and invited us to join them and another friend, Elíes, for a go at Gorgopotamos and a bit of fooling around in other canyons in the area. We couldn't say no.

Fortunately.

Note: As usual, pictures not mine. Credits and thanks go to Santi and Annabella. There are some more of their Gorgopotamos photographs here and a more more proper chronicle (in Italian) here. Also, this YouTube video of a descent by another group should help in getting an idea of the kind of place that is Gorgopotamos. Thanks also to Thomas Georgas and the Alpina XOOOL Club from Lamia for their hospitality and help with information.

Changes (I). Spartan

2009-09-29T03:27:00.000-07:00

2009 has brought a number of substantial changes to my kayaking. Some are very evident. For example: going into my garage it is hard not to notice that where a single kayak used to lie comfortably I am now trying to squeeze two plus the in-progress frame of the traditional SOF I am spasmodically building. And none of the two kayaks is the old one.

Chronologically, the Spartan came first and shared the garage with my old Creus for a time. The Spartan 4.6 is Fun Run Kayaks' faithful (and beautiful), fiberglass rendition of a West Greenland kayak. The key ingredients are all there: low volume, hard chines, low decks, relatively narrow beam, pointy, overhanging ends... However, at just 4.60 m long (and 50 cm wide), the Spartan seems to derive some inspiration from the recent rolling qajaqs besides the traditional hunting ones. The video below should give a fair idea of how the Spartan looks

The way I became its owner makes this kayak quite special to me. It came as the 2nd prize of a contest generously sponsored by its maker, Fun Run Kayaks. This was probably the only way I might ever get this boat. I knew it, I liked it (actually, I loved it), I had longingly looked at pictures of it again and again. However, I always regarded it as too much of a whim. One in which I was not going to indulge.For someone of my size, the Spartan 4.6 cannot cannot really work well for multiday trips. Even overnighters would be stretching it and I do both every now and then. Hence what I really need is a more versatile boat, that performs well with a load, but also in day trips. Moreover, at my current skill level, a 50 cm wide, low volume kayak should prove a bit of a challenge if conditions become "interesting".

In fact, I would guess that the Spartan 4.6 was originally largely conceived as a "roll & play" boat (and there is a minimalistic "roll&play" version) to practice and enjoy the rich repertoire of traditional Greenland maneuvers. Then the boat showed its seaworthiness and that it could shine as a day boat and I would say that most Spartans out of there are actually functioning in this role. That does not mean it does not perform brilliantly as a rolling qajaq. As the video below should show, in the right hands (not mine!), it is quite the opposite.

How has it been paddling the Spartan for me? As a certified non-expert, my opinion is not terribly relevant, but anyway: it has been a true delight. I find it light, quick to accelerate, capable to sustain typical cruising speeds with little effort, remarkably unaffected by the wind and straight-tracking (I suppose the integrated skeg in its keel line has something to do with these two features), yet very easy to maneuver. So far, in the moderate conditions I've had it out it has always been a joy to paddle it.

Note: As usual photos not by me (nor the videos). Authors of the pics, if I recall correctly, are Javier (from Salamanca), César, and another Javier.

Unfaithful

2009-09-18T02:32:00.000-07:00

The date of the prior entry makes quite obvious that I have not been exactly attentive to this blog. And it's not just that I've been doing stuff and not writing about it (which I have). Possibly worse, it's that I have been similarly lazy in the construction of my qajaq. There have been no progress.

Partly, this is because I am typically more distracted during springs and summers. I have more work, but also there's canyoning, hiking and, yes, paddling too and this takes time from the building and writing. Partly, of course, it is because of straight laziness.

Nonetheless, when going down canyons or walking in the mountains the qajaq has never been far from my mind (I guess that's why it feels unfaithful) and I have often stopped to pick up chunks of hardwoods (which I have had to lug around for a bit in a few occasions) in which I see future pieces for the deck lines of the boat. You can see some in the pic. Boxwood from the Sierra de Guara and holm oak from the hills right beside home.

Patterns

2009-05-10T02:27:00.001-07:00

I am a big believer in patterns. I can manage drawing of a kind by using computer software and I love making patterns for pieces in paper, cardboard, vinyl acetate, whatever... then cutting them and tracing their outline on the wood. It gives me a confidence I otherwise lack and, thus, alleviate somewhat the doubts and builder angst that I tend to suffer. In the past, I've resorted to patterns for things as simple as Greenland paddle tips. Above, you can see what I came up with for the two curved deck beams that my qajaq will have, beam # 5 (top) and the masik (bottom).

After a less than fluid relationship with a circular saw and a piece of ash, this is what I ended up with for beam #5, together with a new toy, I mean, tool. It actually proved quite useful and fun to use. The piece has been now installed and I have a quite solid deck structure where only the masik is still missing. It will remain like that for a while, though, as I plan to tackle stem and stern pieces next and leave the masik for the very final stages.

My Way, or disregarding advice...

2009-04-06T15:14:00.000-07:00

Seized by a fit of builder angst, I called Xabier with silly questions about the lashing of deck beams. A frequent procedure is to place the lashing on the fore edge of the beam on one side and on the aft edge on the other. Well, in my case rib mortise locations prevented that for a good number of beams. The idea of lashing on the same edge on both sides did not appeal to me, as it evoked images of beams slowly removed from their postions by the cord's constant pull in one direction. I thought that by making two holes on the beam, instead of one I could center the lashings and avoid that, but wanted to check with an expert first. Xabier sort of favored the traditional arrangements, even if it meant lashings on the same edge. I said ok.

However, when the time came and, drill in hand, I approached the qajaq, an evil, innovative spirit must have possessed me. I suddenly found myself going with my idea and drilling two holes on the beams (sorry for bothering you for nothing, Xabier...). The pictures show the resulting lashing on the ash isserfik. I am now convinced I will pay for this folly.

And that was not all. Prey of the fever of the alternative, I tied figure-eight knots instead of half hithches for all the stopping knots and the knots around the bitter end of the Eskimo knots in all the lashings. In this case however, I seem to recall that Xabier said he had done something similar and the figure-eight are supposed to be a better stopping knot.

In any case, now there are nine deck beams in position. Two to go.

Bigfoot and the qajaq

2009-04-05T11:48:00.000-07:00

The qajaq's deck is missing the masik and deck beam #5, but otherwise complete, lashings and gunwale joining included (still "terrific job" simetry-wise. Pics in some entry to come soon). That seemed a good time to play around with the positioning and height of those remaining pieces to ensure not so much comfort, but that I'll be able to actually get into the boat and that subsequently remaining inside for a while will not be torture. I was quite worried (by now it should be clear that I am good at finding stuff to worry about...) that such a thing would require substantial alteration of the deck that would ruin the gorgeous lines of the boat.

It turns out that, by the well-known-and-not-terribly-frowned-upon cheats of moving the masik slightly forward and pushing the aft edge of the coaming a bit behind the fore edge of the isserfik I could have pretty much used the original height of the masik. However, in order to accommodate my feet while wearing some mukluks I really enjoy, the foot brace required spacers and the bow end of the foredeck stringers needed to be moved closer to the stem, probably laying upon deck beam #3. I don't really have big feet. Average leaning to smallish, actually, but, obviously, those of the original user were even smaller.

Once it was clear this modification was unavoidable, I also decided to raise the masik slightly. I think the deck actually looks better that way and it should give me an extra bit of much appreciated comfort (and margin for error).

The picture shows the qajaq's original profile below and the one with the modified deck above. I must have compared them about a thousand times, not without some anguish. Perhaps it is just resignation (this has to be done if I actually want to use this boat) and self-deception, but I am slowly accepting that the aesthetic damages might be relatively minor.

Just Like that ... (Santander I)

2009-04-02T15:35:00.001-07:00

... only bigger and, perhaps of a lighter color, is how, in my more optimistic moments, I expect my qajaq-to-be to end up looking.

What you see above is a miniature replica of the same boat I'm building, the DNM lc. 43 (KOG plate #31). It belongs to the growing qajaq collection of naval miniaturist extraordinaire, fellow paddler, angler, cook (his mahi mahi sashimi has become a bit of a legend...), SOF builder (what he paddles in the pic below) and nice guy, Rafa.

Rafa is a true expert in traditional sailing craft from the Mediterranean coast, particularly llaguts and the like, and he's reproduced at reduced scale quite a few of them. Then, he discovered traditional qajaqs and turned his talent to them, producing outstanding miniatures of different types at a truly remarkable pace. He brought them to the past kayaking gathering in Santander and checking out the latest additions, chatting about design features and the reasons behind them and generally admiring the beautiful little boats was one of the good moments of the long weekend.

As usual, I didn't make the pictures. They were taken by Javier, a new paddling friend I met in Santander. Another highlight of those days.

Ship shape

2009-03-25T17:36:00.001-07:00

As, I guess, has happened to all first-time qajaq builders before, I found it pleasantly surprising how, all of a sudden, two long planks of wood suddently start looking boat-like when put on the forms.

Moreover, I did the string thingy to check for simmetry and alignment and I found I was within Cunningham's "terrific job" range. I wouldn't have taken any bets on that.

Not that everything went perfectly well and smooth, of course. The MDF forms did give some problems. Midly gloomy predictions by master craftsman Xevi (check his blogs, the qajaq, the umiaq and... well the other things... Very much worth it) tended to come true. A couple of the middle forms had one of their external arms broken and the bow and stern forms did tend to spread at the top (next ones, if there are next ones, will not be open in the middle).

Fortunately, friend and fellow builder Alfonso (whose qajaq and paddle building blog I also recommend heartily) had brought to my attention the contraption in the picture below when my project was little more than worries and a long list of potential problems in my mind and how to deal with a changing gunwale flare was prominent among them. It is basically two pieces of wood joined on top and bottom by Spanish windlasses, thus allowing for separate adjustment of pressure on the gunwale's upper and lower edge.

It looks like it was inspired by (or provided itself the inspiration for) some instrument of torture, but, in any case, the thing has worked very well in persuading the gunwales to take the desired, varying angles. I really like it. If there are more qajaqs in the future, I think I'll go with simpler, sturdier forms coupled with this thing. Thank you, Alfonso.

The tendency to open of the end forms was cured using cam buckle straps around them. The straps also proved generally useful to help hold the overall shape. Oh, I also did the kerf cutting magic so the gunwales' ends make proper contact. And started cutting and adjusting the first straight deck beam (rasps and files, what a great invention...).

So, there is progress. I have something I can look at and think of a qajaq and I have learned for the future.

I have almost forgotten the moments of panic by now.

Avasisartoq

2009-03-17T16:11:00.000-07:00

The kayak I am trying to, more or less, replicate (Danish National Museum Lc 43) belongs, as the one above, to the type H.C Petersen called avasisartoq, which Harvey Golden considered largely equivalente to his Type IV in Kayaks of Greenland. Distinctive of the type are the gracefully raised ends. In my opinion, they contribute significantly to the elegance and beauty of the finer examples of the type which could well be the Greenlandic kayaks I find most aesthetically pleasing.

Of course, the raised ends have some consequences for the construction. You would either need rather wide boards to carve the gunwales in one piece or, as I did, you could glue pieces at both ends, where you need the extra wood. The pic above shows the additions for the stern.

And that's the finished product, bow...

...and stern

Besides adding wood, I've removed some too and thus shaping of the gunwales' profile has been completed. I still need to bevel their inner edges so the skin can lay flat on the resulting surfaces. but that will have to wait for a few days: tomorrow I leave for a long (really long) weekend of paddling in Santander, in the Bay of Biscay (might not see comments to this entry for some time).

And I will be using a new kayak...

Edge Split

2009-03-15T02:00:00.000-07:00

It's in my character to worry about stuff that can go wrong when trying to build something (and I understand that the first qajaq build has done just that to guys tougher than yours truly). Every now and then, I breathe deep and repeat the Construction Mantra "Keep building and it may not be a problem after all". Kind of works a reasonable number of times, but not with the problem shown in the picture. That one has me worried for real.

It's, I guess, what you call "edge split" or "grain runout" or some other technicality, wood fibers separating along the grain direction at the piece's edge (outer upper edge of the right gunwale in this case) or something like that. In any case, I understand it weakens the piece, it unfailingly drives splinters in my hands whenever I lower my guard and it's mighty ugly. I also believe it happens in a bad location, the central part of the boat, where the gunwales will bend the most and where shaping them is not going to take away any more wood from the upper edge.

I am wondering how to deal with it. I am considering liberally pouring epoxy thickened with sawdust or Titebond III in the cracks, then apply some/a bit of pressure and see what happens. Of course, I worry about what that will do to the gunwales flexibility...

Plunge Router!

2009-03-14T15:53:00.000-07:00

I had never used a plunge router. In fact, I had never seen one live and up close till now that Xabier lent me his router to carve the mortises for the qajaq's ribs. Thankfully, it already came with the settings, depth and bit size, I needed. Nonetheless, I'll admit I was a tad daunted by the contraption.

Anyway, I practiced a bit on a scrap piece, then breathed deep and got to work. It took a me a morning to get the 38 mortises done and a reasonable number of them are actually quite straight. I am in total awe of this thing. I don't even want to think if I had had to do this with a normal drill and a chisel... Thank you, Xabier. Oh, and whatever may seem in the picture, your router was not about to fall down. There was a clamp securing it.

Again, I've learnt things as I worked. By mortise 20 or so, I decided that time spent securing the gunwales to the sawhorses through the use of extra blocks of wood and clamps was well worth it, while fixing a clamp to the gunwales to act as a stop (and taking it off and reattaching it in a new position for each hole) was not. Too late for the previous 19 mortises...

By mortise 30, I became convinced that attaching a block of wood on one side flush with the gunwales' edge to increase the support base for the router was also time well spent. Again, late for some 29 previous mortises, but, should there be more qajaqs, not too late for the mortises in them.

Worry of the day (hour...): My rib stock is 5 mm thick, same as the router bit's diameter. Obviously, the mortises ended up a tiny bit wider than that and the fit with a trial piece of rib was not vey tight in some cases. I suppse that soaking and steaming the ash may make it thicken and the slightly loose fit may actually turn out helpful. Otherwise, I suppose that some really thin shims may help.

Mistakes

2009-03-14T02:10:00.001-07:00

I'm just marking locations of things on the gunwales and already I'm learning a lot. The kind of things that can't be told on construction manuals, be them books, or even the amazingly detailed qajaq building blog by Paco.

Proof of that, I guess (I hope!) is the number of mistakes I've already made, decisions I've reversed, etc. I'm slightly surprised. Realistically, I probably shouldn't be.

Good news is that I've caught those while no major harm was done. What worries me now is whether I could say the same when the ones I haven't noticed (and there will be some of those...) surface...

Shape

2009-03-14T00:54:00.000-07:00

Another picture taken by yours truly. It does a great job of showing why relying mostly on other people's photographs for graphical illustration of this blog is such a wise course of action.

It also does a not so good job of presenting the set of forms which should shape my future qajaq. Sheer line will come from the gunwale flare those forms will kindly suggest to the gunwales. The (untested and regarded with sincere worry) slots for chine and keelson stringers should help me achieve the desired hull shape. I couldn't readily find plywood of adequate thickness, so I cut the forms from an MDF board. MDF seems to stand for Medium Density Fibreboard and appears to me like extremely compressed sawdust. We'll see how they work...

I don't actually expect the pieces of wood to fit on the slots in the first try, but that's what files and rasps were invented for, weren't they?

Knock on Wood

2009-02-25T15:47:00.000-08:00

Yeah, I took the pic above. The place where my kayak usually rides on top of my car was then occupied by another (or, at least the frame, of another) one. Only, this one was in a very early stage of development.

By that time, the kayak-to-be was a 4,90 m x 20 cm x 5 cm piece of what is called around here "pino melis", which could actually be, shortleaf, loblolly, longleaf or slash pine (and reasonable likely to have come from "my" state, Georgia), and a 2'40 m x 15 cm x 10 cm chunk of American ash. Now the pine has become two future gunwales, two future chines, one future keelson, a piece to be cut into straight deck beams and some remnants and I hope to start working on them in a couple of days.

Masik and arched deck beams are still inside the ash piece and will remain there for a while yet.

Paddling

2009-02-20T13:00:00.000-08:00

There have been several fun days out paddling with friends. Each outing has been interesting for its own reasons. Valdecañas included one night out camping. It provided nice landscape, lunch in the ruins of a Roman temple, abundant and varied birdlife (cranes, geese, diverse ducks,vultures...) and an otter, which only Xabier saw (sort of fitting, as he was in his baidarka). Oh, it also included a late algae bloom which had us paddling in algae soup for substantial stretches. I could have done without that.

Denia was my introduction to a section of the Mediterranean coast that was surprisingly beautiful. Tall cliffs dotted with caves, clear water, and landmarks such Cabo de La Nao, easternmost point of Spain. El Burguillo was a nice day out with friends which the snow (we have had lots of it this winter, at least for our standards...) and the clear day made particularly beautiful.

As always, others took the pictures shown below.

Passtimes...

2009-01-21T12:13:00.000-08:00

Still not really working, so I keep spending (possibly just wasting) time in the small side projects. Namely, and since I want to build a semi-replica, I've been thinking (possibly just worrying) about ways to ensure as much a faithful reproduction of the hull as reasonably feasible.

What I've come up with are the modifications of the forms that determine sheer and beam that decorate this entry. I've extended them so that, besides the gunwales they will receive and, hopefully, keep in their proper positions the chine stringers and the keelson too.

I have to admit I actually have some mild fun doing this sort of things. They may even be useful, for example, they help me to keep track of the changing angle of the gunwales along the length of this qajaq. A feature that does scare me a little bit. Well, maybe more than a little bit, to be honest.

I really, really wonder whether this will actually work.

Fooling around

2009-01-19T06:01:00.000-08:00

While I wait for the wood and for the weather to mellow enough to allow extended stays in my unheated workspace, I cannot help it and play around with various software and sets of measurements.

Among other things, I've been taking a look at the location (theoretical!) of the centers of buoyancy and gravity, deciding the location of the forms and producing ideal distributions of deck beams and ribs on the gunwales. I've ended up with 10 beams + masik, which happens to be what Brian Schulz of Cape Falcon Kayak used for his semi-replica of this same boat. Ribs have come up to 19. Which is more than Brian's numbers (but, from the pics, I'd guess he used wider ribs), but two less than the 21 (of the same dimensions as I intend mine to be) that Paco García put on his latest qajaq (whose gunwales are some 0'65 cm longer than mine will be). So, it seems about right, doesn't it?

I know all of this may be a bit heretical and run quite against the spirit of Skin-On-Frame construction, where you abjure plans and patterns, because "the process is the pattern" and all that. But I tell to myself that, after all, the very idea of building a semi-replica is probably abandoning "the path" anyway. So a bit of additional heterodoxy...

Truth is probably that it simply beats just waiting...

Antropomorph? (Building II)

2009-01-15T15:49:00.000-08:00

I said I was going to build a traditional Skin-On-Frame qajaq. It was a while ago, yes, but I've actually started moving. I've made lists of materials needed, I've ordered the wood that should become the stem and stern pieces in a nearby shop, potential bending stock has been found through a friend's generosity and I've gone ahead and done the balancing act and accompanying measuring to find the location of my center of gravity in a paddling position and to record some antropomorphic measurements. This is to adjust the placement of some structural elements so I can actually enter and fit into the qajaq. This is what I obtained:

Isserfik at 300 cm from the bow

Isserfik to Sit Bone 19,6 cm
Isserfik to Center of Gravity 31,0 cm
Isserfik to Masik 58’5 cm
Isserfik to Knee Brace 75’6 cm
Isserfik to Heel 107,4 cm
Isserfik to Foot brace 117,1 cm

And even this seemingly innocent, simple task provided some anguish. Somehow I came to think the figures didn't seem right and I started doubting my measuring procedures. Fortunately, a quick consultation with Xabier and some fooling around with the image of the stick where Alapala recorded his measurements (good he published it....) and the dimensioning tools of some software dispelled much of that worry. My data gained some plausibility and I some peace of mind.

I'm afraid this building thingie is going to be quite emotional

Firsts VII: Iqyax

2008-11-19T08:31:00.000-08:00

As previously stated, I'm fortunate with my paddling friends. As also said, one of the reasons, by no means the only or major one, is that they build great SOF kayaks and I get to try them. The latest instance of that is an Aleutian baidarka that Xabier launched a week or so ago. His fourth SOF boat since March, by the way. He's a fast, possibly compulsive builder, I tell you.

So we went back to Cazalegas, the reservoir where Xabier's first Greenland qajaq also made her maiden voyage. Same place, but the weather today was much nicer and the public this time was reduced to just me. Another difference was that birds were by no means as plentiful. However, the marsh harriers that accompanied us in the previous visit were around again.

Aleutian baidarkas seem to be shrouded in some kind of mystique. Certainly, they have quite unique looks. They are long and skinny and have bifid bows (shared with some other Alaskan kayaks, by the way) and distinctive sterns. They are also supposed to be very fast, almost mysteriously so. Nonetheless, for some reason I have never been part of the baidarka cult. I like them, sure, and find them attractive, but regard them as "just" another great traditional kayak among a good bunch of them.

However, now I have had direct contact with one and, when experienced live, the boat has a definite imposing presence that pictures had failed to convey for me. At 5,70 m long, she comes out as a kayak of obvious substance. The 48 cm beam in no way diminishes this impression. Actually, it somehow seems to accentuate it. Plus, of course, for a not very skilled paddler like myself, such a narrow boat introduces an initial element of, let's say, respect. You know, when you cannot help but keep wondering for how long you will stay upright on that thing.

Well, as it turned out, for quite long. Surprise, surprise (at least for me): it is stable. Almost incredibly so. You can heel her quite a bit (more than the pics show and without bracing) and the feeling is always reassuringly solid. It may have to do with Xabier's lowering of the keelson's height and the consequently flatter hull. Whatever the reason, we both felt perfectly comfortable paddling her in almost no time. It is also fast, but with such a boat that's expected, almost a given.

Xabier's thinks he built more rocker into her than would be typical for a baidarka. After looking at some line drawings and pictures of other replicas I'm not sure if I see much of a difference there. In any case, the balance between tracking and maneuverability he's achieved seems a good one. She tracks well, but is still quite responsive to leans and, for a boat of her size, actually felt quite agile to me.

Xabier has definitely departed from the baidarka canon in the aft deck. Typically, it would be peaked as the foredeck and about flush with it. The cockpit would be, consequently, horizontal. Xabier has opted for a common modification in modern baidarka semi-replicas and has built a lower, flat deck aft of a now slanted cockpit. At the very least, this change makes entering and exiting the boat easier or, depending on your flexibility, even just possible. It may also help with some rolls.

All in all, I absolutely enjoyed the experience. It felt a really good boat, at least for the flat water conditions we had. The real test will be the ocean, of course, but, although going purely on gut feeling here, I sort of think she will behave well there too.

I had a fabulous time.

Virtual Gunwales (Building I)

2008-11-16T14:40:00.000-08:00

The consequences of trying to build a semi-replica as first qajaq are becoming quickly apparent. I haven't touched a piece of wood yet, I haven't even gone beyond locating lumberyards and wood stores in the vicinity, and I am already pondering issues somewhat worriedly. For now, I mostly fret about the gunwales.

For a Greenland qajaq to obtain her sheer line, her gunwales cannot be just two long rectangular prisms. They need some amount of shaping. In fact, the precise amount that combines with their flare angle, spreading at roughly the center, joining at the ends and pinching at strategic locations to produce the desired line. The qajaq-building books provide clear, easy to follow indications so you end up with gunwales just right for the boat they help you build. Obviously, that boat is not the one I want. As I already said, I want ("I need" may actually be more accurate) to reproduce, a particular, individual qajaq. One, of course, whose sheer looks significantly different to me.

Enter FreeShip. I put my hopes to solve the gunwale shape problem on this piece of software. With it, I constructed a 3d model of DNM Lc. 43, traced the gunwales' outline on it, pretended the resulting shapes were plywood panels and then politely asked the program to unfold them for me. This proceeded without a problem and I obtained the figure on the image below (click on it, please). This is supposed to be the flat-plate tracing of Lc 43's gunwales. The shape the two long pieces of wood need to be so that when I bend, spread, join and variously manipulate them they will create the attractive sheer line I've come to love.

My main problem is one of trust. I would greatly appreciate some kind of reassurance that the form provided by my operations is actually the one that will correctly build the boat before I blissfully start trying to reproduce it in wood. Keep in mind this is the first time I do this whole thing. What I've got seems plausible, but, with my lack of experience, I'm not sure how much of a judge I can be. If I am wrong, the consequences would be quite annoying. Hence, this is a leap of faith I am finding a bit hard to take. Seems time to start asking around.

And I haven't even really started yet.

Moving

2008-11-14T06:27:00.000-08:00

Santi has taken the trouble to edit some of the footage shot during our canyoning trip to Reunion Island and has put together this teaser for a future, quite longer movie. I'd embed the video directly here if I knew how to make the file under 1oo mb in size... Oh well.

And it was even better.

Amour Fou

2008-11-11T08:52:00.000-08:00

I am going to start building a traditional SOF qajaq in the more or less immediate future.

No surprise here, I guess. I suppose that, deep inside, I have known for quite a while I would eventually end up doing it and I believe friends and relatives sort of knew it as well. Well, now I've gone public and it's official. Well, sort of...

Upon reflection, I'd say the junction of several circumstances has acted as catalyst. The great time I had on Alfonso's, "Greenlander from Murcia", Xabier's happy churning out of boat after boat, the extremely useful and didactic SOF construction blog by Paco, buying Harvey Golden's "Kayaks of Greenland" and the consequent repeated exposure to the many beautiful qajaqs in that wonderful book, the, in all likelihood unjustified, self-confidence boost in my woodworking abilities brought about by my carving of two Greenland paddles, etc... Alternatively, you could just say the time was ripe.
However, I'm ignoring all that good sense would recommend for a first-time boat-builder and I am not going to follow any of the trusty books that have repeatedly enabled even guys like me (I want to believe at least *some* would have been be like me when it comes to lack of skill, wouldn't they?) to build nice, serviceable Greenland-style qajaqs. Instead, I'm building a semi-replica.

It's not that I'm trying to skip homework: I own and have read Morris, Cunningham and Starr and I'm sure they will help me a lot. At least, I hope so as I am certainly going to need help. Lots of it. And, yes, some of you that may be reading this, you are right to be worried: I fully intend to pester you with silly, novice questions. You've been warned.

The reason for such a choice is quite simple, actually: I've fallen in love with one particularly beautiful qajaq. If I am going to try and build a qajaq it just has to be this one. No way around that. I'm just helpless. To at least some extent, I am aware of the added difficulties that going this route will entail and that they will be exacerbated by my lack of experience. I'm smart enough to realize that I'm likely bringing on myself quite a bit of additional worry, anguish and frustration. Not sensible enough to let that stop me, though. In case you were wondering, the boat is Danish National Museum Lc. 43, West Greenland 1834, KOG #31 and it has been built before. Brian Schulz of Cape Falcon Kayak, has produced a semi-replica of Lc. 43 that shows that indeed, the actual boat is truly as gorgeous as her lines suggest.

Incidentally, there is an episode of "The Sopranos" which happens to be the titled "Amour Fou". In it, Tony is introduced to the expression, which he later renders in a mispronounced yet, in a way, still quite adequate way as "our mofo".

I'd like to believe that won't apply to this whole qajaq building thing and I.

Arousa

2008-11-07T11:27:00.000-08:00

About almost three months ago, I spent three great days in a sort of micro-paddling expedition in Galicia. It's been a while, certainly, but the memories are still vivid and truly pleasant.

It was Xabier's idea. The Xabier who built the first SOF qajaq I ever tried, and that by now has another two Greenland style boats under his belt, a pretty much finished Aleutian baidarka that will soon hit the water plus some non-kayaks. A one-man shipyard, I tell you.

He invited some friends and, after a worrying meteo forecast scared us off a very attractive, but rather exposed stretch of the coast of Asturias, we opted for the large Arousa Inlet. Arousa offered an abundance of interesting, yet sheltered, paddling opportunities and a chance to cross to the beautiful islands at its mouth and poke our noses out into Atlantic, weather permitting.

Thus, on a fine friday afternoon, Xabier, Jesus, Carlos, Luismi and yours truly, set out with the ebb tide from right below the Towers of Catoira, an impossing fortress built on the banks of the Ulla River to guard against Viking and Saracen naval raids. A hundred km and two impromptu bivouacs later, we returned to the same spot on sunday's noon. The weather was actually much better than expected, we did reach the islands and enjoyed a truly benign Atlantic. The area is truly a paddling jewel and we had a wonderful time. It all went so well and smoothly that we decided we would go for something bigger next summer. A week or so. Plans are still a tad vague, but the intention is firm. Indeed, I've learned that both Xabier and Carlos have already purchased tents adequate for kayaking expeditions.

I really look forward to it.

Note: No cameras on this trip. The few images there area come from Carlos' cellular phone and appear here thanks to his kindness.

Basically, the same thing

2008-10-23T12:10:00.000-07:00

I've recently returned from holidays. Unlike most previous ones, this time they were quite long (three weeks). Also, I went to an exotic location with a lovely ocean full of humpback whales (I saw one jumping just from the coast and I even wasn't on the coast that much). However, I have not kayaked a single minute.

And this wasn't the first time I was not faithful. Earlier in the year, a couple of truly perfect long weekends similarly went by without touching a paddle either. Instead, I went canyoning.

Canyoning is something I started doing a few years earlier than kayaking and I'm no expert at it either. However, same as kayaking, I love it dearly. Up until 2007 it was my main outdoor activity and faced little competition for the larger chunks of my spare time. Then, I got my kayak... and my heart has been somewhat torn a number of times. One just has too little time for the really cool things...

I believe I like both kayaking and canyoning so much because, for me, in the end, they are largely the same thing: a way to gain access to special moments and places. Saying just that may not convey adequately the actual similarity of the experience (again: for me). As when sea kayaking, when canyoning my special moments usually come from the contemplation of the awe-inspiring places where you suddenly find yourself and are not usually associated to jumping into pools or abseiling under a waterfall: that's just what I do to get there.

And you do get to some really special places...

Note: As usual, the photographs are not mine and are here through the kindness of their authors, largely Santi and Annabella, but also (I guess, no longer sure who shot what) Sol, Miriam, and Dani I and II. You might see a few more pics (a really tiny selection of many taken) of this particular canyoning outing here. Special thanks go to Santi, guide extraordinaire and to Dolomismo, his and Annabella's company. Without them, I would not have been there.

Qajaq & Frito

2008-08-18T09:56:00.000-07:00

I guess I am very fortunate. I have friends that build traditional Skin-On-Frame kayaks and then invite me to paddle alongside them, show me fine paddling locations, allow me to try their boats and put up with my childish glee with a smile...

One of those friends, Alfonso, is the person who carved and lent me the first Greenland paddle I ever held and used during the II Costa Calida Kayak Meeting (which he also organized). A true key point in my kayaking. Recently, he has tackled a more ambitious project and has built a great-looking qajaq (the process is documented in the highly recommended "Groenlandeses Murcianos" blog, though only those able to read Spanish will fully enjoy it). Since the Meeting, Alfonso had offered several times to show me some of his favorite paddling spots and, finally, some ten days ago I was able to accept his generous invitation.

On a warm afternoon, Alfonso, Roberto and I paddled a remarkably beautiful part of the Segura River. Upstream first (which, at times, needed a judicious mix of muscle and wise use of eddies) and then downstream back to our put in. River paddling was great fun, requring just the right amount of attention. In fact, I enjoyed it so much, we did it again the next morning. The place was the same, but the experience wasn't, as river, light, sounds, smells had changed.

Boats changed too. The first time I paddled a Fun Run Draken, a stable, comfortable and quite fast kayak that should make a great expedition boat, but the second one I was on Alfonso's qajaq. And I simply fell in love with it. It was amazingly responsive. It glided smoothly, accelerated quickly and carved tight turns. Mostly, it just allowed a degree of precise control I had not felt before and I had a wonderful time. I now dream about hard-chined boats.

And best of all was Alfonso's hospitality which went quite farther than allowing me to use his boats. He took me and threw me right in the middle of his extended family to share the good times they were having together. I certainly did. I played with the kids, talked with the adults, tasted the great local cuisine and, simply, enjoyed being there.

I told you, I am fortunate.

Coincidence

2008-07-14T06:54:00.000-07:00

I admit that I mostly bought Adney & Chapelle's "Bark Canoes and Skin Boats of North America" because, besides the abundant material on canoes, it also dealt with kayaks and had lines for several kinds of them. I was not disappointed. Although it obviously wasn't the book's main focus, the comparatively short kayak section proved useful. I largely ignored the canoe parts of the book (that is, most of it) and it is only now that, as a sort of unexpected bonus, I am beginning to discover and enjoy the true extent of this book's value.

For example, as I haphazardly browse across it, I'm being repeatedly struck by the beauty and elegance of many traditional canoe paddles. These are objects that do not look like a shovel diverted to other uses in a pinch or a not terribly happy moment of inspiration. No. These things have finely carved, long, narrow blades that run into their shafts and hand grips along fluid lines. Very nice.

And, their good looks notwithstanding, they are tools first and foremost. These were the paddles used by Native American hunters, early explorers and the legendary Voyageurs, the crews of the mythical Maitre Canots and the Canots du Nord and on whose very ability to cover huge distances by canoe the fur trade was built. All of these peoples needed to do lots of paddling without injury nor excessive exhaustion and it seems they all tended to use paddles with long, narrow blades. Adney, recounting Voyageur practices is quite clear: "The Voyageur was particular about his paddle; no man in his right mind would use a blade wider than between 4 1/2 and 5 inches, for anything wider would exhaust him in a short distance."

And the interesting little discoveries go on (at least for me, canoe-ignorant that I am). When looking at the hand grips, many are obviously carved to be held not with the hand cupped over their top, but across them, with the forearm at a right angle to the shaft. Such design, apparently known as "Northwooods grip", or "Maine guide grip" allows for a variety of grips, providing versatility by being able to change paddle length as required. It is also conducive to the "Northwoods stroke", claimed in turn to be easier on wrists and forearms and to encourage applying power from torso rotation.

So, it would seem that in the canoe universe, recreational paddlers looking at traditional practices and gear are finding valuable stuff. Among other things, that long, narrow blades can work very well.

It sounds familiar...

Telescopic Wood

2008-06-24T03:21:00.000-07:00

It's hardly news that paddle extension is pretty much integral to Greenland-style paddling. To such a point, in fact, that it has been argued that one of the marks of a true Greenland paddle is that its owner should be able to securely and comfortably grip it anywhere along its length. And the extended paddle it's not just for rolls and braces. Rudder and forward propulsion strokes (e.g., the sliding stroke) take advantage of the possibilities it offers as well.

Aleutian paddles differ from Greenland ones in, among other things, being assymmetric, but they superficially resemble them as they also have long, thin blades and relatively short looms. Thus, Aleutian kayakers captured with extended paddles in old photographs may not be much of a surprise either. Most such pictures I've seen show the extensions being for braces to stabilize two- or three-seat craft. Most, but not all, as, at least to my eyes, the paddler in the picture just below does not seem to be bracing .

Unfortunately, our knowledge of Aleutian paddling practices is sorely lacking in many areas (we are not even sure if they rolled their boats, remember?) and I have not come across anything about the spread, functions etc... of paddle extension in this kayaking tradition (I'd greatly appreciate any pointers, by the way). We just seem to have little more than a few images that are difficult to understand adequately.

That is also the case, even to a greater extent, for other native Arctic kayakers. Old pictures show that, at least occasionally, they held their paddles by their blades. Even though those blades were wider than Greenlandic or Aleut ones, as in the case of paddlers from the Noatak area in North Alaska (look at paddlers on the left in the picture above) or from the Mackenzie Delta (below).

Their with would suggest that, unlike Greenland paddles, full paddle extension was not a design requirement for North Alaska or Mackenzie Delta blades. It seems safe to hypothesize they did not routinely use a full sliding stroke in those areas, but detailed questions would probably require the kind of information that only a live kayaking tradition can provide. We are lucky that kayaking remained alive (if barely) in Greenland, but from what we have learned from there we can perhaps begin to guess what we might have missed from the extinction of traditional kayaking almost everywhere else.

Firsts V: Qajaq

2008-05-22T10:59:00.000-07:00

It's been over two months since another of those first times that still seem to remain reasonably frequent in my paddling. Thanks to the kindness of Xabier, boat-builder extraordinaire and fellow inland paddler and Kayak de Mar forumite, I had the chance to paddle a beautiful (see the pics, don't just take my word for it) Skin-On-Frame, West Greenland style qajaq that he had just finished.

The qajaq's maiden voyage took place in Cazalegas, a nice, not too distant reservoir (which I was also visiting for the first time) which proved quite interesting in the bird-watching department. The male of a couple of Marsh Harriers seemed to take interest in us and stayed nearby for good chunks of the outing and in the groves at the reservoir's tail the group, i.e., Xabier, Juan Antonio (whose photographs illustrate this entry), Jesús and I saw Night and Purple Herons.

It was a bright, if somewhat windy morning when we departed from near the dam. The wind kept increasing as we paddled, bringing clouds and stirring a substantial chop. Following wind and following chop, I guess you could say as they both came straight from our sterns. When after somewhat over 6 km, we reached the end of one of the reservoir's tails, Xabier and I switched boats and I entered for the first time a SOF kayak to paddle her on the return leg of the trip.

I was surprised by how solid and robust she felt. I had abundantly read and heard that SOFs were not fragile, quite the contrary actually, but for some reason it hadn't really clicked in my mind. Well, it has now. My first thought was a pleased confirmation of how well my Greenland paddle went with the boat, but that was quickly superseded by the first hand experience of what a deep V hull does to initial stability (pretty much killing it, if I trust my first impression), but also of how secondary stability quickly comes to the rescue.

And as soon as I had the boat moving, sensations completely changed. It suddenly felt very stable and hardly tilted at all. By now the wind blowing straight against us was quite strong, to the delight of some windsurfers that had suddenly appeared. We had to work to make progress. The qajaq kept her course as if on rails, but responded well to moderate edging. It also was a great opportunity to verify that, yeah, a totally flat deck means a rather wet ride even if all you are pinching is shortish lake chop.

I enormously enjoyed those 6 km back to the put in and I think that, had I built the boat myself, the feeling would have come dangerously close to pure bliss. I don't know yet when, but I now know that one day I will just have to build a SOF.

Link (IV). There's not a moment to lose

2008-04-21T08:42:00.000-07:00

In one of the Aubrey & Maturin series novels by Patrick O'Brian (of which I am a devoted fan), the tender Ringle, a schooner (possibly a topsail schooner, as she was of the kind known as Baltimore clippers) of Jack Aubrey's property appears at a certain moment crossing a bay closed to the north by the Cape of Bares. Commanded as usual by Midshipman William Reade and carrying Dr. Maturin, his daugthter and his fortune, Ringle, finds herself closely pursued by a strong French privateer, the three-masted lugger Marie Paule. To avoid boarding and capture, Ringle, masterly skippered by Reade and Aubrey's coxswain, the magnificent Barrett Bonden, has to literally sail a biscuit's toss from the dangerous cliffs and rocks of the Cape.

And I have just realized that said bay is what I know as the mouth of the O Barqueiro Inlet and that I was paddling just there this past Easter.

Poor Kayak

2008-04-16T10:51:00.000-07:00

In an old entry I hinted about traditional inflatable paddling. It seems it just doesn't stop there. Apparently, folders and Sit-On-Tops were known in the Arctic too. The kayakluk, or poor kayak, from Povungnituk (north-eastern Hudson Bay) happened to be both at once.

The kayakluk was retrieval craft for ice-edge hunting. About 1.8 m long, 0.8 m wide and 38 cm deep, it was made with the old skins from a normal kayak and lacked a rigid interior frame. It was carried folded on the hunter's back and, once on the ice edge, it was filled up with snow and the thongs on its upper part were tightened. The paddler sat on top with legs stretched and employed a short paddle. According to its users, the poor kayak's main advantages were light weight and ease of transport. It seems that carrying a normal kayak on a sled often damaged its skin.

It does look like a moccasin, doesn't it?

Firsts IV: Paatit

2008-04-12T12:06:00.000-07:00

Among the nice new experiences that Easter in Ortigueira (see previous entry) delivered, I must confess I was particularly touched by the fact that my Greenland paddle, made with my very own hands (pretty much the first thing I've ever built) actually performed very well at propelling my kayak. As already confessed, I rapidly felt very much at ease using it and by the end of the trip I was simply loving it.

Since then, it has seen water (fresh, this time) once again. Another windy day, even more so than the first one and, hence, another chance to appreciate what it can do for you in such conditions. And to become totally addicted to the absolutely silent stroke you can achieve with it and the much valued chances to come close to wildlife that it provides. Oh, for some 5 km of that outing and thanks to the kindness of Xabier, its builder, I could match my paatit with a Greenland-style SOF kayak on the return leg of its maiden voyage (another "first" to ramble upon in the near future). Lovely

The stick (obeche wood = ayous = samba and a few other names) has ended up 234 cm long and 7.8 cm wide for a weight of 850 gr. I'm absurdly fond of it.

Firsts III: Ortigueira

2008-04-04T00:38:00.000-07:00

Note: The pictures below were taken by Luis, from Ponferrada, who kindly allowed me to use them.

Easter 2008 brought a diversity of fresh kayaking experiences of the good (very good, actually) kind packed in four days spent in the Santa Marta de Ortigueira area in Galicia, northwestern Spain.

I met new fellow kayakers, making what I hope will become new friends, and got first hand contact with the AGKM (Asociación Galega de Kaiak de Mar), an interesting and promising initiative in the national sea kayaking scene. My recently finished first Greenland paddle got its first use in saltwater. For the first time, I could lay my hands on SOF boats, a Greenland-style kayak made by one of my woodworking gurus, Paco García, and an Aran currach that travelled all the way from Barcelona, and I paddled in new, very nice places.

Under AGKM's gentle wing, what initially was to be just a gathering of friends at Ortigueira, quickly and spontaneously grew into something quite large that included semi-strangers like me, a surf-kayak clinic, a Greenland paddle-making workshop and Greenland ropes. In spite of this, the event very purposefully stuck to its original informal nature and a "We are all organizers here" motto. Of course, some people actually worked while I, for example, contributed by having a jolly good time, but I believe the prevalent spirit, a sort of gently-steered anarchy, was indeed the intended one. It worked remarkably well.

It was my first kayaking exposure to our northern sea. That stretch of Atlantic Ocean that we call Mar Cantábrico (Cantabrian Sea) and others the southern end of the Bay of Biscay. It is a beautiful coast. Over most of its length, it is conveniently sprinkled with rías, river inlets that afford protected waters where guys like me can still enjoy very nice outings when conditions out there get hairy. In Galicia, the coast's western end and where we were, those inlets become even more frequent and substantial. It is also reasonably dotted by villages (often quaint and picturesque) ports where you can stop for refreshment and good food. It is truly a wonderful area for sea kayaking.

As first exposures go, it was a tad limited, though, as the weather did not fully cooperate. For me, F6-7 winds and truly big seas (4-7 m) accompanied by rain and hail squalls made paddling unappealing in the inlets and pretty much suicidal in the ocean on Saturday and Sunday. Fortunately, there was the paddle-making shop and a lovely piece of red cedar to keep me happily busy.

On Thursday, we all paddled together and poked our collective nose out of the Ortigueira inlet from the small port of Espasante. Conditions, though milder than they would become later during the weekend, were not exactly comfortable (F4-5, about 2-3 m breaking waves) for a group of mixed skill levels such as we were and we soon returned to sheltered waters. Lesson learned, next day we split according to our abilities and daring. A minority faced F5 (later 6) wind and 3-4 m waves in an excursion along the coast. Prudently, I went with the majority and the currach for a more sedate trip down the very pretty O Barqueiro inlet to the beautiful port of Bares taking the Greenland stick out for its first trip.

Bares happens to be the northernmost port in Spain and there are occasional statements that it is also the oldest one still in operation. Its megalithic jetty is often dated to the VIIIth century BCE and attributed to either Phoenician traders or, less commonly, local peoples. However, recent scholarships is critically reviewing those claims and a consensus on a roman origin may be emerging. In any case, its an intriguing and impressive structure that has formed the beach where we disembarked for a beer and a bite of something good in a nearby tavern. We returned with a helping high tide, winds increasing to the point of occasional annoyance and growing esteem and comfort with my Greenland paddle on my part. By the end of the trip, I was totally hooked on it. For a good while, I paddled near the currach watching it move against a backdrop of cliffs, woods, secluded beaches, coves and small fishing villages in the opposite shore and having just the greatests of times.

It is truly a wonderful area for sea kayaking.

Eskimo Roll III. Unangan

2008-03-27T11:37:00.000-07:00

Be warned: this is going to be long and rambling. Keep reading at your own risk.

Thanks to Dr. Key I've read a Sea Kayaker's article by Jeff Dickrell discussing whether or not the Aleuts rolled their baidarkas (alright, their iqyax, to be precise). Obviously, clearcut evidence is lacking (there wouldn't be much to discuss otherwise, would it?). Literary references are contradictory and, in some pro-roll cases, vague or indirect. Actually, the Unangam people are not alone in this relative uncertainty regarding their rolling abilities. For example, among those reporting on Chugach paddling practices, only Kaj Birket-Smith (quoted by David Zimmerly in his very nice book Qayaq ) stated that they were able to roll their kayaks (which were called baidarka too and shared eye-catching similarities such as a bifid bow with Aleutian craft, but that, otherwise, must have handled rather differently in terms of stability, speed, etc...).

In any case, Dickrell seems to conclude that the Aleuts were in fact able to roll, but that the maneuver was not widespread. I can certainly agree with that (which, as I am no expert, is pretty irrelevant, but this is my blog after all...) and would like to perhaps add some minor evidence. Around 1840, Bishop Ivan Veniaminov (quoted again in Zimmerly's Qayaq) wrote: "Thus, today there are extremely few, if any, of the former riders who, when their boats capsized, could set them right side up by themselves or who could set... upright with a skillful motion of the oar without emerging from the baidarka"

I find it a bit surprising that this was not mentioned in Sea Kayaker as it is quite accessible and Dickrell does include other quotes from Veniaminov (a major source on Aleutian etnography in general and kayaking in particular). Certainly, that quote it's not like a videoclip of an Aleut rolling, but considering the time Bishop Veniaminov spent in American Russia and his interest and devotion towards the natives and their culture, it does carry some weight for me. Additionally, it seems to nicely fit the suggested picture of an existing, but not widely practiced roll. Moreover, it also appears to hint of a rapidly fading skill and this matches well my own speculation (idle and without base, sure) about why the Aleut roll seems to have been rare, if it existed at all.

Dickrell does some tentative theorizing on the reasons for this. In essence, he seems to suggest that a roll was not very necessary because the Aleuts rarely capsized. That they were very, very good at bracing (at paddling, in general) and that, in addition, they used rocks as ballast which both reduced the likelihood of tipping over and made rolling very difficult if, in spite of those precautions, they were overturned.

It might have been so, but, though I am clearly way out of my depth here, I can't help but wonder if that's the whole of it. For one thing, the information I've seen has left me with the impression that, after all, capsizes were not that extraordinary for the Aleuts. Accounts of hunters lost at sea do not seem uncommon and Veniaminov reported (once again, quoted in Qayaq) Aleut self-rescue techniques that relied on inflated sea-lion or seal stomachs as floats to bail out (if needed) and re-enter an overturned baidarka (it brought to my mind our own paddle-float procedures). Veniaminov states that those floats were an "indispensable" part of the baidarka's equipment. To me this tends to suggest that the Unangan might have contemplated capsizing as something one should be prepared to deal with, though, admittedly, the bladders were also used to transport water and could function as flotation bags in case of need too.

Moreover, it seems to me that capsize likelihood is not the only, maybe not even the major determinant of whether a group of native kayakers rolled or not. For example, King Island (readers of this blog might remember) and Nunivak Island kayakers who paddled rather stable craft developed roll maneuvers for their wide boats and single blade paddles. In contrast, the Mckenzie Delta Inuvialuit and the Caribou Eskimo that used some of the most unstable of all traditional kayaks (substantially more so than Aleutian baidarkas), did not roll at all (nor used ballast).

In my opinion, more factors must have come into play. Rolling is not the only response to a capsize and how likely was for a group of arctic paddlers to develop a roll and rely primarily on it rather than on alternative techniques may have depended on the whole context of kayak use. Whether the kayakers tended to operate alone or in groups, water depth, temperature and proximity to shore, the prey they hunted and the tools they used to do it (presence or not of harpoon lines that may tangle, for instance) and, possibly, a host of other circumstances were likely relevant. Thus, Mckenzie Delta and Caribou Inuit kayakers seem to have often hunted in groups and not too far from shore and rescue procedures among Caribou Inuit, as reported by E Arima (see this previous entry), seem to have often involved the help of a nearby hunting partner and transportation to shore.

In this regard and coming back to the Aleuts, it seems that European contact had a major impact on their kayaking practices. The Russian promyshlenniki, fur traders and hunters, started appearing on the area around 1743. Soon they were exploiting the natives, pretty much enslaving them and forcing the hunters to focus on catching sea otters for them. Those sea otter hunts were carried out in groups and using two-person baidarkas rather than the single-paddler one that apparently were the dominant hunting craft before the Russians' arrival. Veniaminov (once again! And once again quoted in Qayaq) wrote: "The two-hatched baidarka was always in use among the Aleuts, but only for the transfer of light freight or for the riding on the sea of an old man with a child, but even up to the present day, there has never been an instance of two young and healthy rowers of their own will riding out in hunt of the otter in a two-hatched boat. This was regarded as shameful".

In stark contrast with these words, later graphic material overwhelmingly shows two or three-person baidarkas (a Russian invention to carry cargo or a passenger) often in sizeable parties. Although possible, it is trickier to roll a double than a single and if hunting was now often done in groups, reasonably prompt assistance could be counted on. Under these new circumstances, rolling would become less useful and the incentive to invest the effort required to master it would be reduced.

In the Aleutians, the promyshlenniki and the deep and rapid changes they caused, seem to have preceded the etnographers. I wonder if, when Europeans interested in the culture and traditions of the inhabitants, and not merely in exploiting them, arrived they found an already changed society where, presumably among other things, rolling a baidarka (maybe never a popular practice) was largely a thing of the past, as Veniaminov's words seem to suggest.

Link (III)

2008-03-09T11:46:00.000-07:00

During early June of the year 1788, the Spanish frigate Princesa commanded by Esteban José Martínez and her companion, the packet-boat San Carlos under Gonzalo López de Haro, explored Prince William Sound. On 18th June, both ships, after having dispatched launches for survey work were sailing close near the southwestern end of Montague Island. On a note for his diary's entry for the day, Jose María de Narváez, a pilot who had commanded one of the launches, referred to the watercraft used by the inhabitants of the area in these terms:

"Their canoes are shaped like a harp and sheathed on the outside with little span ropes. The frames of the canoes are fabricated on the inside of very thin ribs of wood, woven into a perfectly engineered shape. In the same style, they have an enclosure in which there is a round hatch, like the mouth of an earthen jar. The Indian gets into this. No matter how much swell there is, he travels free of getting any of his body wet. His arms are free to row with small oars."

I believe that Narváez was speaking of the kayaks of the Chugach people who still live in the area.

Firsts II (Riaño)

2008-02-20T15:18:00.000-08:00

In a previous entry I ranted about my first paddle of 2008 entailing many "first times" and taking it as an omen for the year. Well, it seems I wasn't too wrong. The year keeps bringing novelties into my paddling. I now use a new Euro paddle which has made a major difference (for good) and which I definitely love. A Greenland stick (first thing I've built wit my hands ever, I think) is finished and waiting to be thoroughly tested (inevitably, there will more on both in the near future in this space). I've also visited a couple of new paddling spots, including Riaño reservoir last weekend, and that happened to be my first camping kayak trip (even if for just one night).

I took part in the third edition of the Riaño Winter Paddle. Riaño Reservoir is a largish man-made lake, reasonably high (about 1200 m asl) up among the Cantabrian Mountains in Northern Spain. Seemingly, it is also pretty much the only body of water in the country combining sufficient size and nice scenery with the potential for severe paddling conditions during winter. As such, it has been identified by some enterprising Spanish kayakers as a convenient place to test both gear and oneself and acquire experience in cold weather paddling not too far from home.

Lots of snow (Riaño I) and lots of rain at near-freezing temperatures (Riaño II) provided the sought after hardships during the two previous editions, making them a definite success. This year, however, once the morning fog cleared, we had to endure a bright, sunny day that quickly melted the night's frost and left us little choice other than enjoying the scenic landscape. Ouch. Some relief came in the form of a rather cold night at the camp (around -5º C) followed by a frosty sunrise. I suppose that trying to stuff gear into dry bags frozen rigid might qualify as a bit of a challenge.

I fear I may lack a truly adventurous spirit. I must confess that the kindly weather did not disappoint me at all and that I cherished the chance to just have a good time. Also, being, as said, my first kayak camping trip, there were some personal tests anyway that I thought covered the challenge area very adequately in my case. Choosing and managing camping gear, clothing, food and water and loading it all in my 450 cm long Creus by Fun Run Kayaks (it will soon have its well-deserved entry, too) felt enough of a trial for now.

I am happy to report it all worked very well and that my boat did live up to its builder's claim (no surprise here) of good loading capacity. Everything needed for a comfortable winter overnighter fitted neatly into the two bulkheads and with some room to spare. I had no need to carry stuff on the deck (other than the pump, paddle float and small dry bag with snacks that always go there), something I don't like at all (I might be a tad anal about it...). Hatches and dry bags did their thing: nothing got wet. Balmier conditions, requiring less and less bulky gear, sharing a tent or, if it really comes to it, some minor cluttering of the deck with cargo, should free abundant space for food and water and, thus, allow for substantially longer outings.

I eagerly look forward to them.

NOTE: The pictures above were taken by Miguel (Mijeliño) and Jaime (Borrasca) who have kindly allowed me to use them. At Jaime's blog you'll find a more extensive chronicle of the trip and links to more photographs.

Link (II)

2008-02-13T11:03:00.000-08:00

The present tourist hotspot and former hippy haven of Tofino (BC, Canada) got his current name when in their 1792 expedition to explore the Strait of Juan de Fuca commanders Dionisio Alcalá Galiano and Cayetano Valdés of the schooners Sutil y Mexicana named an inlet in the west coast of Vancouver Island after their mentor and fellow hydrographer Vicente Tofiño de San Miguel.

Rear admiral (his final rank) Tofiño (1732-1795), was an astronomer, cartographer and mathematician greatly renowned and respected by his contemporaries. He was director of the Midshipmen Academies at San Fernando, El Ferrol y Cartagena. He produced numerous books, treatises and maps, but perhaps the contribution that earned him the most fame was the maritime atlas of the coasts of Spain and adjacent islands elaborated under his direnction in the period 183-1788.

And now the kayaking connection (though many would know already): among the older models of Necky kayaks was a double named Tofino. And, in 1987, it was a minimally modified Necky Tofino that he baptized Bananafish that Ed Gillett paddled from California to Hawaii.

Free Ships

2008-02-11T08:57:00.000-08:00

Literally and, more relevantly for this entry, metaphorically speaking, kayak touring is taking me to places I didn't expect to go. And I'm absolutely loving it.

Not only I've overcome a lifelong wariness towards DIY projects (my Greenland paddle is finished, more on that, soon...), but, lately, I've found myself fooling around with naval architecture freeware with excursions into the even wider field of 3d design.
The program I've ended up using almost exclusively is called FREESHIP. To my lack of experience, it has proved reasonably easy to use, while still doing most of what I'd want of it. Mostly, what I want is to produce 3d models of traditional kayaks that I can enjoy looking at . Those models can be exported to the more artistic types of 3d programs, where, if I find the time, I might try to add textures and whatnot to them for (hopefully) increased aesthetic value.

Well, I'm curious, so it was probably inevitable that I'd actually end up trying to do more than just admiring nice views of kayaks. I admit I'm also attempting to use FREESHIP to explore some performance features of the designs. You know, speed vs. resistance, stability.... In this regard a few words of caution, should someone else feel inclined to try his hand at it: at a certain point in time, FREESHIP V 2.6 became DelftShip Free 3.2 and grew a commercial version (reasonably priced, I'd say). In the process, the freeware avatar gained some better functioning of the interface, but lost the stability analysis. Bringing models done with DelftShip Free 3.2 version to 2.6 has proven a real pain, at least to me (the freeware does not allow "save as" older versions, as the commercial version does) and I'm now having to redo a number of models I made in 3.2. Hence, if stability interests you, I'd advise to start with ole FREESHIP 2.6 and stick to it.

Finally, I must admit that the name of the software makes it endearing to me. Just because of the "freedom" connotation. I know: it is actually about costs, but, to me, connections, no matter how unintended, casual or accidental, are connections. In an article in Adventure Kayak John Dowd told about how once, while doing consulting work, he asked the employees of the kayak section of a store what they were really selling. They eventually answered that they were selling freedom (wouldn't that automatically make kayaking gear very inexpensive? Freedom is pricless, isn't it? I don't actually expect my SO will see it that way, though) and I think they got it right. To me, the kayak functions very much as a vehicle to moments, often fleeting, of feeling free. Hardly original, of course, but I derive childish amusement from fumbling with models of these ships to freedom through software that has "FREE" in its name.

Yep, I can be that silly.

For the Joy

2008-01-30T12:29:00.000-08:00

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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.

Link

2008-01-18T14:00:00.000-08:00

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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.

Inflatable Tradition

2008-01-17T09:01:00.000-08:00

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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.

Firsts

2008-01-11T15:15:00.000-08:00

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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.

With a little help...

2008-01-04T01:23:00.000-08:00

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

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.

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.

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.

Eskimo Roll II. Kitunarautaq: further details

2008-01-03T15:45:00.000-08:00

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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.

Paddles inside

2007-12-30T15:12:00.000-08:00

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Namely, inside the wood block (roughly a 2 x 4) I've just bought and inside my head. I look at the 2 x 4 and compare them. So far, they are identical. That's good as, of course, the paddle in my mind is just terrific. However, although they are both beautiful, none will be much use to propel a kayak in their present state and that detracts from their appeal. Therefore, I must now resort to my craftsmanship to extract a paddle as similar as possible to the one in my head from the wood. Put that way, it sounds pretty. Problem is that, currently, all that can be honestly said of my skill as a craftsman is what m my old military card used to say of my courage: supposed.

Consequently, it shouldn't be much of a surprise that I face this task with some vague apprehension. My courage, at least for military purposes, will remain an unknown (and long may it last so), but my capabilities as a do-it-yourselfer are going to be tested and, right now, that's something I cannot take lightly. In the past, I would have cared very little whether I could produce a serviceable Greenland paddle or not, but presently this links directly with much cherished projects. If the outcome is satisfactory, there will be more paddles (Arctic kayakers managed to produce a diversity of models to tempt my curiosity) and, maybe, kayaks (dreaming is cheap...). So far, all I can say is that I enjoyed fine-tuning the tools and obtained a decent result. I'm moderately optimistic.

To sum up, I guess this attempt to build a paddle represents a challenge, a chance to learn and train, and, hopefully, a stress-reducing pastime . All at once, and all for the relatively modest cost of a bit of wood and some simple hand tools. There aren't that many hobbies that can offer so much just from collateral efforts as sea kayaking, I'd say.

And I might end up with a paddle too.

Eskimo Roll I: The Others (Kitunarautaq).

2007-12-23T11:12:00.000-08:00

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For those not in the know: the eskimo roll is the maneuver that returns capsized kayak and upside down paddler to the conventional, upright position. The latter is much less stable, but it is often preferable, particularly on the long term, as, among other advantages, it tends to make cruising and breathing sensibly easier.

The eskimo roll came to us from the Arctic through Greenland and, in this area (by no means the only one), that tradition weighs heavily on kayaking's collective unconscious. Details of the technique do not belong here, but its mention tends to conjure up images of sleek, low-decked, sharp-ended boats with seamlessly fitting paddlers among the initiated. For most modern, western kayaks that typically requires astutely arranged spraydecks, thigh braces, seats, foot braces, etc.

Pretty much every instructor facing the unenviable task to teach rolling to, for example, guys like I remarks the need of reasonably close paddler/boat fit. Rightly so. In my only attempt at learning to roll, I could realize how what I had up to then considered rather adequate fit to my kayak was actually quite lacking. I believe this did contribute to my failure, but, at the same time, it provided me with a great excuse ("I've actually got it, it's just the fit...")

That's why I was especially intrigued by the images of the other Arctic kayakers for which, besides the Greenlanders, rolling seems to have been reasonably common. Or, at least, to have survived contact with westerners long enough to be adequately documented. They were the inhabitants of the coast of Alaska in the area of the Bering Strait and Sea. In particular, the maneuver seems to have lasted longer in King Island, in front of Nome, where at the beginning of the last century this paddler was photographed executing the technique they called kitunarautaq.

And, as you may notice, they rolled wide boats, with beams greater than 60 cm (up to, or even above, 70 cm with some frequency), rather short, no longer than 5 m, with tall decks and ample volume and with cockpits so spacious they could accommodate two passengers riding back to back. Oh, and they did it with single-bladed paddles.

Although, actually, the paddle part is what I find less surprising. I wonder more about how a paddler in such a roomy boat and whose seat is a woven grass mat is anchored into his kayak and things like that. Truth is that knowing about these other rollers encourages me. If they made it in the conditions the pictures seem to suggest, there might be hope for me yet.

Tool Taming

2007-12-19T03:16:00.000-08:00

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These past days, a sizable chunk of my spare time has been spent tenaciously sliding a bench plane back and forth over strips of sandpaper of varying coarseness. It may not be readily apparent to the general public, but I am actually involved in a very respectable ceremony called, I believe, "Planing the Sole". It happens to be just one part of a series of arcane rituals destined to ready woodworking tools for action.

You see: I hope to build a Greenland paddle for myself (inevitably, more on this sometime soon). Such a project requires adequate wood, working space and tools. Wood has been located and ordered, working space improbably produced and tools (or, rather, what may become tools) bought. Woodworking skills may be needed as well, but, as I totally lack any woodworking experience, I try not to dwell on that too much. It would dampen my spirits and, as I fear that the challenges that I vaguely suspect await a novice woodworker will do that anyway, I see no need to rush it. Every thing in its due time.

Fortunately, the useful Kayak de Mar Forum is visited by a number of benign woodworking gurus. They kindly impart their wisdom upon the likes of me and, thus, I've deduced that buying artful contraptions is only the beginning to obtaining real, work-worthy tools. From their teachings, I've learned of the existence of the "tools-you-can-trust-and-actually-enjoy-using". Mythical objects that must be earned, not just bought, and for which money may just be a minor part (well, relatively) of what you have to pay.

And this is how, for about a week now, my free moments have been spent doggedly planing soles and honing blades. Early success with a Stanley spokeshave possibly bred undue confidence. I suppose the glitter of metal smoother and sharper than I thought I could possibly produce can do that to those, like me, new to the experience. However, the #4 bench plane of the same brand has decided that it will not submit without a fight.

The sources of instruction mentioned above have informed me that a plane's sole simply *must* be incredibly level and smooth in, at least, 3 critical areas. Makes lot of sense, as the tool's purpose is to give you flat and smooth wood. However, luck and mass production have conspired to place the deepest of the pockets and irregularities of my plane's original sole in precisely one of these critical locations. It just can not be ignored. Therefore, I'm being forced to sand away pretty much the whole sole surface till everything is level with the furthest point of the rebellious recess. It may not sound like much, but, by hand, it is a respectable amount of metal to thin and it is taking its time.

Fine with me, though. Wolves had to be tamed to become dogs. Colts have to be broken. I can be patient. I have a past as an angler.

Plus, there are benefits: I am thoroughly committing to muscle memory the motions of planing, the exercise builds character and it should also serve as cautionary example to the block plane (a Stanley too) that comes next.

And then, the builders in the Arctic produced not just paddles, but whole boats and all sorts of useful gear (often beautiful too) with little more than the tools illustrating this post. However, I suspect that what surgical precision their instruments may have lacked, they amply made for with skill gained through a lifetime of mentoring by elders and practice. At this stage of my life, I do not think I can conveniently reproduce those conditions (I'd like to have my paddle while I still can use it). So, I have to go for tool-taming and hope for the best.

THE IMAGES
Click on them to learn more about the Inuit tools they depict in their pages in the site of the McCord Museum. A kindly institution that represents a terrific resource for graphically-depreived bloggers like me

Official Opening...

2007-12-18T07:54:00.001-08:00

At last, I've given in.

I' ve started a blog too. It's just a whim, without reasons nor clear goals. Which I find comforting. With no other expectation than passing some time and writing just for myself, there can be neither duty nor frustration. It's just as simple, or as complex, as feeling like storing somewhere whatever goes through my mind in relation to the practice of Kayak Touring. Although, knowing me, I suspect it may not be the only topic that will show up here.

Kayak Touring is also, possibly more generally, known as Sea Kayaking. However, I live almost smack in the center of Spain. About as far from the ocean as one can be in this country. And I'm coming to realize that I paddle in freshwater more often than in the brine (and, I fear, in my mind more often than in water of any kind). Fact of life, I'm afraid...

Semantics, aside, the thing, at least for me, consists of using a kayak to gain access to special places and moments. That's it. To me, that typically happens through contemplation and fulfilled curiosity rather than, let's say, an adrenalin discharge. It's not that I actively shy away from what may be called "action". It's simply that I tend to like my "action" as a mean to some end rather than pursuing it for its own sake.

Starting this blog in these dates has been wholly unintentional, but I realize that it's now about a year that thanks to the Kayak de Mar forum and the generosity of Félix, their previous owner, I acquired boat, paddle and spraydeck. It was not the beginning, as it had all started quite a while before, but it was, without a doubt, a beginning.

Like this post.

THE IMAGE
It's reasonably clear to me that blogs sport images, don't they? In this area, I will have to resort to the talent and generosity of others. In an attempt to make my rants a tad more palatable, I've selected this picture from Alaska in the 1910's because it shows a kayak of a type of proven seaworthiness, fine craftmanship and, to my eyes at least, elegant (I don't think the photo does full justice to the boat). If I've got it right, kayaks such as this were used in the Cape Espenberg area of the Seward Peninsula, in the Bering Strait. But, most of all, I've chosen this image because my kayak produces in me the same expression theirs has elicited in those kids. It may not always be immediately apparent from the outside, but, inside, that's just the look on my face.