Oh Deer

Kayaking Wednesday evening, Tracy and I paused next to a small island to try to take a picture of a rather shy bird. Just as we were about to turn and continue downstream, the deer that we had seen on the island leapt out from cover and jumped through the shallow water to shore. Since I already had my camera in my hands, I took as many pictures as I could, as fast as I could.

The settings weren't really right for action (the shutter speed was really too slow) and we were rather far away, but still, they came out better than I'd expected.

Quite an Adventure

The success of our trip on Saturday (no - you didn't miss something; I didn't write about it) convinced Tracy and me that we needed to take David with us on Sunday and do it again; since he was working Saturday, he couldn't come along. So after church and grocery shopping, we made up a nice picnic (potato salad, cole slaw, and stuff for sandwiches), got everything together, and hit the river.

Well, that's what I'd like to say. The reality is somewhat less glamorous (and less direct). First, we had to spend nearly an hour and a half working out the cars and such: drop off the boats, drive (in two cars) to the take-out point, drop off my car, drive back to the boats. In midday traffic on a weekend - and a particularly lovely weekend - that takes a loooong time. Then we had to carry everything from Tracy's car to the boats (which I'd locked to the guardrail alongside the gravel road), carry the boats to the water, and grease up (so we wouldn't turn into cooked lobsters).

And then we hit the water. We put in just after the dam (that creates the reservoir on which we usually paddle). There was a rapid right alongside where we put in, which makes for an exciting start to the trip. You can see the rapid and the dam in the first photo, above; those rocks at the right of the rapid actually mark where we put in. In the second photo, David waits amongst the rocks for us to get into our boat (and me to stop taking photos!). That was by no means the last rapid for us, that day: the photo at right shows another of the roughly 10 we had to navigate.

The real adventure came right about the middle of the trip. Tracy and I were in a rapid and thought we could maneuver around a large rock in front of us. We paddled hard to the left, and the boat obligingly turned to the left.... And side-slipped directly onto the rock we were attempting to avoid. At which point water poured over the upstream side of the boat (port) and the boat listed hard to port. And filled with water. And became quite firmly wedged. So we had to climb out of the boat, into the icy, fast-moving water, and try to figure out how to dislodge the boat. It took both of us lifting/sliding the back end off the rocks before the water finally did the rest of the work and floated the boat downstream. In the meantime, my camera (in its box) had floated out and sailed down the rapid, as had my water bottle, Tracy's water bottle, her shoes, and some of the food for our picnic (the bread and the chips).

And now that the boat was free, we had another problem: it was at the bottom of the rapid, and we were in the middle of it. We walked down the rapid as hurriedly as we could, but it's hard in icy, deep, fast-moving water to move quickly! Fortunately, David was able to not only rescue all of our gear (save Tracy's water bottle, which was small and easily missed) but also corral our boat (after it had rolled over) on a beach. Tracy and I were so far from where the boat ended up that we had to walk (in my case) and swim (in hers) to shore and then run along the top of the riverbank, down to where the boat ended up. Save for that one loss (we never found the bottle), the incident was without lasting harm. We drained the boat, verified that the chips and bread weren't waterlogged, and continued along our way, looking for a place to eat: an incident like that is not only tiring, it makes you hungry!

Not far from our near-disaster, we found a likely spot and pulled the boats up on a sandy beach. The picture at left and below were taken on that beach. Our food was still cold, and since the bread and chips were still dry, we had a regular feast. As cold as we all were (David had had to get out of his boat to help me drain the tandem), it was pleasant to sit in the sun.

We brought blankets, too, so we spread those on the soft sand and stretched out and dozed for a while - probably an hour, at least. That was really nice, and well earned (I think), after the work we'd done recovering the boat. A group of canoers passed, in that time, but otherwise it was completely peaceful: the sun, the breeze, the water, and the birds - not even many insects, since it's still so early in the year.

From there, the trip was basically uneventful - which was nice - save for a little water taken in on nearly every rapid we went over. The tandem is nice and handles well, and even claims it can go in Class 2 whitewater, but it's definitely not designed to keep its occupants dry in whitewater! The sides are so low that it's quite easy for water to spill into the boat. It's also quite difficult to maneuver in whitewater - but that could be a reflection on the skill of its occupants.

We did see a couple of interesting trees on the way to the takeout point. The first, above, is one of many trees growing along the riverbank that have had their roots exposed by the erosion of the bank. That one was the most fantastic, I thought; I'd seen it on Saturday and was glad to have my camera with me to get several pictures of it. In the larger version (linked from the picture), you can see that the base of the trunk is elevated above the ground: I could probably crawl under that tree. The second, at right, is a tree root (but for what tree, I never saw) that has defined a stream-bed feeding into the river. The water falls along the root and follows its curve into the river - very interesting.

Oh - I suppose there was one more adventure: right before we reached the takeout point, in the last rapid, one of my shoes (which I'd foolishly set on top of the back of the boat - not tied down) fell off. It was only after we'd pulled up onto shore that Tracy noticed it was gone. I had to jump in David's boat and paddle as fast as I could to catch it - at the bottom of the next rapid. And then, I had to climb said rapid to return to the takeout point. Which I had just enough energy left to manage.

Quite an adventure.

A More Successful Trip

David, Tracy and I went on a much more successful kayaking trip last night. We dropped Tracy's car off at the takeout point and put in at the same place as our previous trip, but this time headed downstream rather than upstream. David had a box for his phone (which survived being thoroughly soaked!), wallet and keys, we had extra towels and clothes in dry bags, and all wore our life jackets. As such, there were no incidents: it was a nice, calm paddle, and nice that it could be a one-way trip.

Ironically, the reason we'd not been wearing our life jackets was because we assumed they'd be uncomfortable. I mean, I spent good money on them, tried them on in the store, and they were fairly comfortable. But having had those horrible orange things they make you wear at lake parks when I was a kid, I maintained this image of life jackets as, well, horrible orange things. These, once seated and comfortable in the boat, were barely noticeable. They certainly didn't interfere with movement nor put unpleasant pressure anywhere. And it was nice to know that if someone flipped, they'd have something to buoy them until they got their wits about them. So we'll keep wearing them - which is nice, really. Saves room in the boats for gear, since we don't have to stow the jackets.

I also ordered a box for my camera, yesterday, a Pelican 1450 case with pick-n-pluck foam. Laid out all the bits of my camera kit in Visio (dreadful tool - MS should be shot for what they did to it) and ensured that there'd be an inch of foam between each piece and the sides of the case. Even left enough room for the lens I want (but don't have): the EF 70-200 F2.8L IS USM. Looked at smaller boxes, but those weren't deep enough, or had so much extra space that I didn't gain anything by not allocating space for the lens I don't have. So now I have planned growth potential. Once the box comes, I'll be able to haul the camera around with me and not worry about it getting damaged. The only downside is that it's not exactly going to be fast access.... But good protection seemed better than fast access. And I'm not really sure how I'd have managed both, anyway.

A Cold and Wet Revision

It appears I need to revise Aiello's Gear-Uselessness Principle.

On Friday, David, Tracy and I met David at Barrack's Road Shopping Center so we could get a jump-start on kayaking that evening. Since we were out that way, we decided to hit the upper part of the Rivanna River rather than one of the lake parks.

We put in at Reas Ford Road, and paddled upriver, planning to return to the car with the current. It was a gorgeous evening - I wished I had my camera, but the river was high and I wasn't able to find a hard box for my camera. All the BRMS had were small hard boxes: big enough for a couple of cell phones and a wallet and keys, but not for a camera as large as mine. I'd gotten one of the small boxes, anyhow, along with a bilge pump and a signal mirror before meeting David. So Tracy and I put our phones in the box, along with my wallet and keys. Mostly for fun, since I'd just bought the box.

But back to the beauty. That part of the river is really lovely. Nothing built up along the banks, just a couple of large homes, but those are pretty high up from the water and well shielded by trees. The river was running pretty fast, but not so fast that it was unpleasant to paddle upstream.

Just before we turned around, we happened upon a couple of rapids. Not "OMG look at those huge, roaring rapids," but some pretty fast-moving water. We decided to climb them before we turned around, 'cause we figured it'd be pretty much fun to paddle back down them.

We got up the first one with no difficulty, caught our breath, and started up the next one. Tracy and I, in the tandem, were in front; David was coming along behind us.

Then we heard this big splash, and David calling for help. His boat had turned sideways to the water (his boat is fairly keeled - great for tracking, not great for fighting rapids: too much leverage for the water) and gotten pushed over. So he was in the water, clinging to his boat like a rat to a piece of driftwood as the current carried his boat back down the rapid.

We turned our boat around as fast as we could and paddled over to him. I threw him the dry bag that had our towels, a sweatshirt, and a spare jacket so he could hold that to float, rather than the boat ('cause it's hard to get a good grip on wet plastic). Then I tossed him a life jacket so he could shrug into it, just to be on the safe side (no, we weren't wearing them). But about that point, it was shallow enough again that he could get his feet under him, so neither proved necessary. Note that that lack of necessity translated into forgetfulness: as soon as he stood up, he rather let them float on down the river in the current.

But we let them go, and focused on getting David's boat dry so we could get him back into it. I fiddled with the bilge pump a bit: it moves a lot of water (about as much as a garden hose, I'd say) but quickly decided it wasn't going to move the water fast enough to be of much use; not with the shore so close, anyhow. So Tracy and I removed our shoes and socks, rolled up our jeans, and dragged his boat into shallower water where we could manage to roll it and start draining it. Didn't take too long; much more efficient than trying to pump the boat dry: that boat only has a rear bulkhead, so when it takes in water, it takes in a lot of water.

Now would probably be a good time to mention that it was only around 50º F outside at the time. And the water was glacially cold (not literally, of course, but boy did it feel like it!). It was also about this time that David realized his (brand new) cell phone was in his pants pocket. Instant regret for not having purchased two hard boxes when I was at BRMS!

Up on shore, I had David strip off his two wet shirts and rub his chest a bit while I rubbed his back (remember that I'd thrown the dry bad with the towels and extra shirts and it was now floating down the river!) to try to get him a little warmer and dryer. I took off my outermost shirt, a long-sleeve knit, and Tracy took off the jacket she was wearing so David could have those. Nothing could be done about his soaked jeans or shoes, but at least his chest would be warm that way.

He'd also (naturally) let go of his paddle when his boat flipped, so when we got back into the boats (that water was soooo cold for bare feet!) we pulled out the spare paddle and gave it to him. Then we chased back down the river to get the gear.

Fortunately, the gear hadn't gone far. Also fortunately, the dry bag had done what it was supposed to and kept the towels and spare clothes dry, despite being dunked in the water and floated down the river. We tossed one of the towels to David, so he could take off his soaked shoes and socks and dry his feet, and used the other to dry off our feet so we could put our socks and shoes back on. That made things much for comfortable for us, at least, but since David didn't have extra socks or shoes, I doubt it was a huge improvement for him.

We fished out his paddle, took the spare back from him, and continued back to the car. With the current in our favor, we made good time. We got the boats out and back on the car without further incident - which was good: we'd all had about enough of adventure for one evening!

But back to the title of the post. A lot of our gear actually did come in handy. We needed the spare paddle, so David could control his boat (and we could both paddle ours). We needed the towels to dry off. We needed the spare clothing, so none of us would get wet. We didn't actually use the bilge pump, but I was still comforted knowing it was there: had he flipped somewhere else, we might have had to use it, since I doubt we could have pulled his boat onto the front of ours to drain it (though I plan to practice that and other recovery techniques once it warms up a bit).

Perhaps the reason the Principle failed to hold on Friday was because the relative badness of the outcome was so high. I mean, David got cold. And so did we, though it was nothing in comparison. And perhaps my lack of forethought in throwing away the towels and spare clothes as a floatation device had something to do with it.

Or perhaps it was the badness of soaking his phone (so much so that the external display was waterlogged, with a nice air bubble on top of it, making it rather like a level) due to a missing hard box.

Whatever it was, we needed most of our gear this time around! And I think we learned quite a bit from the experience. For instance, I learned that I need to think a bit more carefully before throwing things for floatation. I mean, sure, in a life-or-death situation, it's better to throw away your towels than let someone drown. But he wasn't in that dire of straights at the time, and I certainly could have taken the extra 10 seconds to dig grab the life jacket instead. It would also have been better had the dry bag been tied to our boat. It's got a D-ring for that purpose - I should really put it to use.

And having done this once, I want to practice it several times (in warmer weather) so that next time a boat flips, we'll be more efficient and skilled at recovering the boat. We spent far to long floundering about in the water trying different things, before actually making progress in draining his boat and getting out of the water. Had the water truly been cold - like near-freezing kind of cold - David would have been in trouble by then. Not that I plan on us being in water that cold, but preparation, as this incident demonstrated, is a Good Thing™.

Aiello's Gear-Uselessness Principle

If you're not familiar with the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle, it can be summarized thus: looking at something, to figure out where it is, makes it go faster; measuring the speed of something doesn't tell you where it is. Thus you can never know both where something is and how fast it is moving with infinite precision and accuracy.

Gear behaves in a startlingly similar way. If you take a piece of equipment with you, you effectively guarantee that it will not be needed - and therefore will be useless to you. If you don't take it with you, you are sure to arrive in a situation in which it will be helpful (if not necessary). Something about the inclusion/exclusion of the piece of equipment alters its necessity, just as observing something alters its speed.

I hereby name this "Aiello's Gear-Uselessness Principle" under the (unresearched) claim that I am the first to postulate it thus.

Here's an example. Yesterday, Tracy and I took the tandem up Ivy Creek (David decided he didn't want to go along). It had rained the day before, so we were confident we'd get further up the creek than previously. I also decided that, since the water was going to be high and flowing faster, there was a better-than-average chance of mishap (i.e., flipping the boat), so I opted not to take my camera (I've still not gotten a dry case for it, and my dry bags very clearly state that they are not dry enough to entrust precision electronic devices to their seals). And it was cloudy when we left, so I figured I'd not have much light for it, anyway.

Of course, when we got there, there were no clouds. It was sunny, windy, and basically gloriously beautiful. The redbuds and dogwoods were blooming along the banks of the creek. We followed a tributary a ways that, normally, isn't navigable in our boats - it was especially pretty. And then, on the way back (we got further up the creek than previously, but several fallen trees blocked us, and we didn't feel like carrying the boat past them), we saw a beaver.

Now, seeing beavers isn't terribly unusual. What was unusual is that this one let us pass within four feet of him, while he chewed on a stick and watched us. It was incredible: they're generally very skittish. I don't think I've been closer than 20 feet or so from them.

And I didn't have my camera. It was dark then, and my lens isn't terrible fast (f4), but still. I could have cranked the ISO speed and taken them in. Ah well. Perhaps next time.

Of course, next time, the gear-uselessness principle will kick in again, and there won't be anything worth shooting.

On-the-Water Photography

I've been taking my camera along on our recent kayak trips. Here are some of the photos I've taken. You can see more in my web album over at Picasa.

Most of these are from a recent excursion to Beaver Creek Lake Park. This past Monday, we packed a picnic and paddled for most of the afternoon. The weather was glorious. During the winter season, the county doesn't charge admission to the lake parks. Great for us: we're still willing to kayak in cool weather, and the free admission is certainly appreciated.

There are gads of turtles in the lakes. They can nearly always be counted on to sun themselves on just about anything protruding from the water. The bigger ones seem to be rather afraid of anything approaching them: as soon as we start heading over to them, they tend to jump in the water. The smaller ones, however, will sit it out for quite a while. T suggested that the bigger ones are scardy-cats, while the little ones are braver. I suggested that she had confused cause and effect: perhaps the big ones are big because they are fearful. In any case, this turtle sat still enough for me to get a really nice shot of him. And T held the boat steady enough that the photo came out nice and sharp.

Rounding a bend in one of the creeks that feeds the lake, we came upon an osprey perched high in one of the trees in front of us. T slowly steered the boat toward the bird, while I readied my camera and started taking pictures. The best were after the bird launched from the branch, like this one. Made me wish for a bigger lens, but even if I could afford a supertelephoto, I'm not sure I'd take it out in the boat.... As it is I worry a bit about my camera body and my day-to-day lens. Gotta get a good dry bag and attach floatation devices to it.

Shortly after we saw the osprey, we stopped for a picnic. T climbed out of the boat nearly where I took this picture. I stayed in an paddled around to the far side of the rock. There, an outcropping jutted out just inches over the water. I ran the side of the boat under the outcropping, lifted out the cooler, and the change in displacement was enough to wedge the boat against the rock. I hopped out, the boat tried to float even higher, and it was stuck fast. David's boat we ran up on shore a bit.

During the picnic, the osprey stayed in another tree just across the lake from us, only about 50 yards away, or so. I hoped that he would fly back to the tree from which he'd flown when I snapped the pictures of him, but he didn't. More's the pity - taking the images from land, they might have been a little sharper. And from that angle, the lighting would have been more favorable. Next time, perhaps.

After the picnic, we explored the other arm of the lake. Wasn't much wildlife (aside from some Canadian geese, which I rather discount), but we ran up the creek on that side of the lake and had a good time. David got stuck quite a few times, and probably gave himself quite a workout getting unstuck. It was funny to watch him paddling all out and staying place. He ended up hopping out and walking his boat several times. On our way back to the car, though, I spotted a white egret among the reeds, through some trees before we rounded a bend in the creek. I readied my camera, and just as we came around the bend, it took flight. There was a fisherman just outside the frame of the photo - perhaps he spooked the bird. In any case, I got three pictures; this was the best.

Our Adventures in a Tandem Kayak

Yesterday, Tony, his brother David, and I took two of his boats out for a paddle. We had his new tandem kayak and a single-seater. (David, of course, got to be lonely.) As we started out, Tony wondered aloud about the fact that we always head out into the wind and when we come back, we seem to be either paddling into the wind (again) or there is no wind.

We paddled up the creek for quite a while before we started having to watch where we were putting the boat. Of course, the makeup under the water made the current (which was strong at that point) harder to fight. Shortly before Tony and I turned around, David decided that he'd stop and wait for us to come back. Tony and I made it around a bend and over some logs, only to find out that there was nowhere for our boat to go. So we turned around, gathered David, and headed back to the launch point.