Hiatus

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.

Rituals

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).

Γοργοπόταμος

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 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

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

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...

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.

Just Like that ... (Santander I)

... 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

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

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

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!

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

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

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?

Paddling

Antropomorph? (Building II)

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

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

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.

Amour Fou

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

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.

Qajaq & Frito

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.