Only a true kayaker can understand how I felt before the trip. For the last three years, if I wasn't in a boat, I'd be talking about being in a boat. Six days a week, at least a couple of hours a day, I'd be putting lots of warm clothing on (in the UK!), slipping my buoyancy aid over my head, and going boating. Then I came out to NZ for some of the most stunning boating in the world, dislocated my shoulder, and didn't get back in a boat. It was three months of going stir crazy, hanging out with boaters who really couldn't help and dreaming about getting back on the water. Pulling up at Ferg's Kayaks in Okahu Bay, I finally had my chance.
There wasn't really much to pack - the spare paddles were strapped on deck behind me along with the bilge pump and paddle float. The VHF, SPOT beacon and knife were all stashed into the new buoyancy aid, and the brand new, scratch free boat was taken down to the water. I gracefully scratched my boat down the concrete ramp into the water, and with but a few bracing strokes was on my way out of the little marina, to cross the mouth of the Waitemata Harbour. Looking to my left, I could see the center of Auckland spread along the water's edge, framed by the harbour bridge, with the Sky Tower towering (funnily enough) above it all. I could also see a cruise ship leaving the dock, entering the channel about two miles away.
Both shoulders ached after the first few strokes. The new technique of slicing the wing blade through the water as I paddled along felt really foreign, totally unlike the whitewater paddles that I flew out from the UK with, but this was a start. I was finally back into it. The unloaded boat was quite twitchy, at least in comparison to my whitewater boat, but I could slowly feel my body adapting to the new boat's motion. With just a meter of swell and light winds, there was little to really challenge me. I paddled with a huge grin on my face but with my head constantly on a swivel, looking for the small boats which were the real danger in such a confined, busy harbour. After half an hour or so, I crossed the red marker buoys which denoted the south side of the shipping channel, and I pressed on northwards with just a glance at the cruise ship to my west, which was slowly, ever so slowly, working its way up the channel.
With North Head just off my port bow, I was surrounded by small sailing dinghies and little aluminium fishing boats enjoying the warm, sunny evening. Sea birds were folding their wings and diving headlong into the water, and five loud blasts of a fog horn woke me up. It was the cruise ship, now about half a mile away, warning me to get out of the way. Already paddling at a three to four knots, I couldn't really speed up, so I altered course to cross the channel as quickly as possible. You can infer from this post that I'm alive, and the ship passed at least three hundred meters behind me. They'll have to try harder if they want to catch me next time!
The rest of the day was uneventful. First the naval radar station at Devonport, and then the expensive North Shore suburbs scrolled slowly past on my left hand side. There were tonnes of people out on the beaches and in the water swimming around, and I seemed to say hello to someone every second stroke. Eventually I reached Takapuna beach and surfed in on a tiny little wave, obviously being the seasoned pro that I am, remembering to pull up the rudder before it got too shallow (maybe). Once the boat was pulled up into the campsite, I was treated to an interesting dinner of Doug's first attempt at Sushi (maybe a blog post of its own) and I had my last night's sleep in the van, really excited about the trip to come.
Catch you all soon,
Sam and Doug
PS, a reminder to get your charts here if you're that keen. The first one is Approaches to Auckland, NZ 532.
Thursday 24 January 2013
Monday 14 January 2013
Preparations
The idea for a sea boating trip started to germinate in my mind a couple of days after I dislocated my shoulder on a rapid called The Abyss on the Kaituna river. Faced with a long recovery with lots of time out of a boat, I was at a loss as to what to do for the next few months. Climbing, surfing and swimming all hurt too much at the time and physio was only just bearable. Hanging out with boaters, day in, day out, watching them get off the river with huge grins on their faces, listening to their stories only made me more psyched to join them at the get on, but my shoulder wasn't ready.
With plenty of time on my hands while Doug was on the river, I got through about 4 books a week. The van was pretty much overflowing. Varying from Pratchett to texts on the history of the Atlantic ocean, I lucked across a variety of sea kayaking books in the sports section of Rotorua Library. Brian Wilson's Blazing Paddles was my first exposure to sea kayaking literature, his story of paddling, solo, around Scotland's coast. I then indulged myself in his other book, Dances With Waves, also about a solo sea trip, this time around Ireland. Both are beautifully written, and contain a wealth of information about the day to day routine of sea kayaking and poetic descriptions of the history and geography of the landscapes that he paddles past. All in all, he does a great job of romanticising all the callouses, chafing, sore muscles and fatigue that come hand in hand with spending 6 hours a day sitting in a boat.
Next up on the list of literature that psyched me up for multi day trip was Southern Exposure, by Chris Duff. He writes about his experiences on the second successful solo circumnavigation of the South Island of New Zealand, a feat that I could only truly appreciate after my modest 2 week paddle. He spends multiple months battling the Tasman sea and South Pacific in a tremendously committing paddle around an incredibly remote coastline. Sea boaters, given the choice, prefer jagged coastlines, which offer shelter from a variety of swells and winds. A significant proportion of the west coast in his trip consisted of long, straight surf beach. Nothing to really mark your progress, and nothing but huge Tasman swells to look forward to at the beginning and end of every day; swells large enough to snap his first boat in half after a misjudged landing, forcing a helicopter evacuation. Doesn't that really make you want to take up sea boating?
Another boater that inspired me to dip my toes into sea boating was Paul Caffyn, someone that I believe every boater, whatever discipline, could learn from. His list of truly epic solo circumnavigations in the late seventies and eighties is barely believable. It includes the first solo circumnavigation of the South Island in '78, followed by the first solo circumnavigation of the North Island in '78/9, followed by a crossing of the Foveaux Straight with a circumnavigation Stewart Island, off the southern tip of New Zealand, in '79. Topping this off with the first circumnavigation of Britain in '80, he then went on to circumnavigate Australia in '81/82 and the four main islands of Japan in '85. Each one of this small selection of his trips (you can look up the rest - there are more!) is incredible, but to put them all into the space of 7 years is the work of some kind of paddling psychopath. He has the drive to regularly paddle 50 mile days, where I ran out of gas after 20. He did 100 mile days in his Australian circumnavigation, taking pills to keep himself awake and stop his bowels, all to get past inhospitable stretches of coastline. He is a machine, and whenever I found myself flagging, I found a lot of strength in knowing that if he could push himself that far, I could get my lazy ass round the next headland.
I am also indebted to Kerry Howe, an experienced kiwi boater who wrote a text called Coastal Sea Kayaking in New Zealand. A practical manual of multi day sea boating, it was invaluable in telling my what I would expect and need for my trip.
So with the enthusiasm and knowledge gained from reading the books above (which I would thoroughly recommend to everyone), I set out on a massive shopping spree. Boat, paddles, tents, stove, charts, and all the other accoutrements that I would need were all purchased on the weeks preceding the trip. All that was left was picking up the boat and paddling!
Catch you all soon,
Sam and Doug.
With plenty of time on my hands while Doug was on the river, I got through about 4 books a week. The van was pretty much overflowing. Varying from Pratchett to texts on the history of the Atlantic ocean, I lucked across a variety of sea kayaking books in the sports section of Rotorua Library. Brian Wilson's Blazing Paddles was my first exposure to sea kayaking literature, his story of paddling, solo, around Scotland's coast. I then indulged myself in his other book, Dances With Waves, also about a solo sea trip, this time around Ireland. Both are beautifully written, and contain a wealth of information about the day to day routine of sea kayaking and poetic descriptions of the history and geography of the landscapes that he paddles past. All in all, he does a great job of romanticising all the callouses, chafing, sore muscles and fatigue that come hand in hand with spending 6 hours a day sitting in a boat.
Next up on the list of literature that psyched me up for multi day trip was Southern Exposure, by Chris Duff. He writes about his experiences on the second successful solo circumnavigation of the South Island of New Zealand, a feat that I could only truly appreciate after my modest 2 week paddle. He spends multiple months battling the Tasman sea and South Pacific in a tremendously committing paddle around an incredibly remote coastline. Sea boaters, given the choice, prefer jagged coastlines, which offer shelter from a variety of swells and winds. A significant proportion of the west coast in his trip consisted of long, straight surf beach. Nothing to really mark your progress, and nothing but huge Tasman swells to look forward to at the beginning and end of every day; swells large enough to snap his first boat in half after a misjudged landing, forcing a helicopter evacuation. Doesn't that really make you want to take up sea boating?
Another boater that inspired me to dip my toes into sea boating was Paul Caffyn, someone that I believe every boater, whatever discipline, could learn from. His list of truly epic solo circumnavigations in the late seventies and eighties is barely believable. It includes the first solo circumnavigation of the South Island in '78, followed by the first solo circumnavigation of the North Island in '78/9, followed by a crossing of the Foveaux Straight with a circumnavigation Stewart Island, off the southern tip of New Zealand, in '79. Topping this off with the first circumnavigation of Britain in '80, he then went on to circumnavigate Australia in '81/82 and the four main islands of Japan in '85. Each one of this small selection of his trips (you can look up the rest - there are more!) is incredible, but to put them all into the space of 7 years is the work of some kind of paddling psychopath. He has the drive to regularly paddle 50 mile days, where I ran out of gas after 20. He did 100 mile days in his Australian circumnavigation, taking pills to keep himself awake and stop his bowels, all to get past inhospitable stretches of coastline. He is a machine, and whenever I found myself flagging, I found a lot of strength in knowing that if he could push himself that far, I could get my lazy ass round the next headland.
I am also indebted to Kerry Howe, an experienced kiwi boater who wrote a text called Coastal Sea Kayaking in New Zealand. A practical manual of multi day sea boating, it was invaluable in telling my what I would expect and need for my trip.
So with the enthusiasm and knowledge gained from reading the books above (which I would thoroughly recommend to everyone), I set out on a massive shopping spree. Boat, paddles, tents, stove, charts, and all the other accoutrements that I would need were all purchased on the weeks preceding the trip. All that was left was picking up the boat and paddling!
Catch you all soon,
Sam and Doug.
Friday 11 January 2013
Acknowledgements
I thought, as a little teaser to everyone, that I would thank everyone involved in turning my little paddle into a great trip. Doug first, obviously, for shadowing me for the first day to make sure I had everything. The anonymous yachties of Kawau Island Yacht Club who pointed me towards shelter from Cyclone Evan. Richard and Helen of 44ft ketch Bon Amis who welcomed me on board for Christmas lunch, and let me stay on board for dinner too. Mike, Genine and Caroline of 40ft ketch Sulali, who took pity on a much too optimistic sea kayaker on Boxing Day, accepted my gift of a crate of beer and gave me a feed, a bed and a mean hangover the next day (thanks for that!). Maaike and Ben of Ruakaka surf club, for giving me a place to stay for two nights and letting me play with all the rescue toys. Brian and Caroline or Taiharuru for letting me camp at their beautiful batch... and giving me another hangover. And of course the many people who came over to the tent for a chat and said 'good on ya mate!' once they heard my plans. You all made a huge difference.
Well, that's all for now. I will flesh out the rest of my 12 day trip over the coming two weeks, and I hope that you all enjoy reading about it! I'm off for a soak in the spa pool.
Catch you all soon,
Sam and Doug
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