Paddling Gear Thoughts

As I noted in the previous post, this summer was a great learning experience for me, and my three months of paddling taught me a lot, including about gear.  A distillation of my thoughts here:

The Kayak

Way back in April I posted a bit about my paddling gear (here) along with a description of my trip plans.  I talked about my kit-built Chesapeake Light Craft kayak, model "North Bay," which is no longer manufactured, and my homemade paddles, which included a full-sized Greenland paddle and a storm paddle.

Before this summer, I would have described the long, narrow (18' 6" x 20") North Bay as a low-volume, cruising boat, and I expressed some concern that the boat might not be well suited to my long paddle.  However, with this summer's experience behind me, I would revise that assessment.  Overall, I was very happy with the kayak, which is quite fast when the wind is down, and which handled challenging conditions--chop and swell--on the outer coast well.  It also carried more than enough gear and food for the longest stretches of my trip.  My one gripe is that the boat's length, coupled with relatively little rocker, does mean that it tends to get bogged down in short, steep chop in tailwinds on the inside passage's narrow channels.  I often wondered if a more heavily rocketed hull would serve me better under these conditions, which were really the only time I wasn't in front, when paddling with partners, but the hull's shape no doubt has other advantages, including better tracking and better performance when the waves are smaller or larger.

Paddling a wooden boat was great.  Always nice to have a light load to carry up and down the beach in the evening, and it's fun to get questions from passers-by.  "Did you make that?"  However, the keel line of the boat really took a beating on some stretches of BC's rocky coast, and I needed to carry out field repairs, to toughen the bottom of the boat, more than once.  In the future, I plan to install double or maybe triple layers of fiberglass tape soaked in epoxy thickened with graphite along the keel, which would solve most of these problems without too much of a weight penalty.

I had some negative experiences with CLC's low-tech skeg system early on in the trip.  The skeg, made out of a rigid plastic, would bend out of shape over the course of a day in such a way that it would pop out of the skeg box, and I would find myself mysteriously weathercocking when I thought the skeg was down.  I eventually figured out how to make the system work (and found it to be more foolproof than most skeg systems I've used).  In the future, though, I would shy away from this system, which makes re-entry from the stern of the kayak--like cowboy scramble re-entry--more difficult by placing a large obstruction in the way of a cowboy re-entry or other, similar technique (the top of the skeg projects out of the deck).  The next kayak I build will use a different system.

The good news is that cowboy scrambles would be very unlikely, since I found rolling the fully loaded kayak to be exceptionally easy.  I was initially a little concerned about capsizes and rolling with a loaded boat, due mostly to cautionary statements from more experienced paddlers: "Sure you can roll, but have you ever tried to roll a loaded kayak?  It's hard!"  I found the opposite to be true.  Indeed, rolling the loaded boat was a breeze, and a nice easy way to cool off on hot days.

Paddles

I carried three (!) paddles with me on the trip.  The first was a Werner Shuna (carbon), which is a high-angle touring blade that I've been using for years.  The second was a full-sized Greenland paddle that I made myself, and the third was a Greenland "storm paddle," a short paddle for high winds that some modern Greenland-style paddlers use as a spare.

At the beginning of the trip, I treated the Greenland paddle as a bit of a novelty, and spent most of my time paddling with the Werner.  Through much of the BC section, though, I paddled exclusively with the full-sized Greenland paddle, and really fell in love with it.  It's possible that it's a bit slower than the Werner (hard to say for sure), and is definitely a bit heaver (cedar, not carbon, after all).  However, over time, I found myself feeling more secure with the Greenland blade in chop and swell, because I found it easier to roll with, and also because the shape of the loom and blades makes it much easier to intuitively understand the position of the blade relative to the water, leading to a much lower probability of a missed stroke.  Towards the end of the trip, I would tend to use the Werner when conditions were calm and switch to the Greenland blade when conditions were rough, or when I was doing long crossings.  Unfortunately, due to an error I made in the construction process, I broke the Greenland paddle shortly after I crossed into Alaska (actually, the day I arrived in Ketchikan).  I missed it for the remainder of the trip and have just finished building a replacement, which I plan to use this summer.

Interestingly, by the end of the trip, I found that my paddling style had changed a bit, from a relatively high-angle stroke to a lower-angle stroke better suited to the Greenland blade.

Although I still use it as a spare, I never really felt comfortable with the storm paddle in rough conditions; because of the way the paddle is used (exclusively with a sliding stroke), I would sometimes find myself wanting to brace on the right side (for example) while holding the right blade in my hand, requiring me to switch hands to brace on that side.  A few times, I was caught off guard by reflecting and/or refracting waves and was unable to brace as quickly as I would have liked.  I never capsized, but I found myself shying away from the storm paddle in sketchy conditions, generally preferring the full-sized Greenland paddle.  Odd, since the storm paddle is supposedly intended for windy conditions.  I will continue to use the storm paddle on short paddles (maybe half-heartedly) but may leave it behind on my next big trip.

Wetsuits and Drysuits

Until this summer, I was exclusively a devotee of wetsuits for paddling.  I own several, including a heavy, 6mm wetsuit for winter paddling in Juneau, a farmer john, and a neoprene two-piece dealy that I used for a good stretch this summer.  The reason I preferred wetsuits is, first, that I've found drysuit latex gaskets to be very uncomfortable on my skin (especially my neck) and almost unbearably painful after several days, and second, that I've found drysuits to be much less reliable, because gaskets and fabric tend to fail and often are not completely waterproof, making them less effective (sometimes completely ineffective).  By contrast, a wetsuit would require a really significant failure to make it ineffective, and I've generally found that wetsuits keep me warm under even the coldest conditions here in Alaska.

This summer, unfortunately, I had some very negative experiences with my wetsuit arrangement.  After a week or two of paddling, I found that my wetsuit top was wearing holes on my skin around the back of my shoulders and upper arms, and in the crook of my right arm (just the right arm, for some reason).  It probably goes without saying that having large, open sores in the salt water environment was pretty uncomfortable.  In Prince Rupert, I transitioned to a drysuit (actually, dry bibs and a dry top).  I found that system much more comfortable, and I was able to keep my issues with the dry top neck gasket at bay by using K-Y Jelly on the inside of the neck gasket.  The two piece arrangement was very convenient in camp, where I used the dry bibs as rain pants and often wore them from dawn to dusk.  The bib/drytop setup also kept me completely dry while rolling.  However, it does allow some water in at the waist while swimming, making it somewhat less safe than a full-body drysuit.  I intend to buy such a drysuit before my next trip on the outer coast, but I'm quite comfortable with the two piece system in less exposed places.

Other Paddling Gear

I had trouble with paddling gloves all summer.  I very quickly destroyed a pair of NRS paddling gloves (though a heavy-weight pair of paddling mittens I own has been going strong for years), and had trouble finding replacements, destroying at least two more pairs of gloves over the course of the summer.  For some reason, every conceivable retail operation sells neoprene gloves in Alaska, but not in coastal BC or Washington State.  In the end, my favorite paddling gloves for most conditions were inexpensive neoprene gloves I bought at the local auto parts store in Juneau.

I've been using a pair of NRS paddling booties for several years.  They work great.  I found that they got much less stinky when I transitioned to the dry bibs and wasn't wearing them with bare feet all day every day.  Weirdly, kind of missed the constant neoprene smell on my skin, though.

On my head in cold weather, I wore a neoprene paddling cap with earflaps and a short brim, also from NRS.  It was an absolute impulse purchase, but was wonderful--great in the rain and wind.  I also carried a neoprene hood to match to my wetsuit, but sent it home after the first few weeks, because I never wore it and found that the water was warm enough by mid-June that it wasn't necessary for rolling practice.  My sun hat was an old crushable cowboy/gardening hat with a wide brim.

I picked my PFD (life jacket, not Permanent Fund Dividend) because it was comfortable and had pockets for safety gear, including a radio pocket.  It's from Kokatat.  I started the trip with a Cobra handheld VHF that I held in that pocket, but it got damaged North of Victoria, and I replaced it with a Standard Horizon model in Port Hardy (the guy at the marine electronics store said, "I sell this one to loggers.")  In my PFD pockets, I also carried a few flares, a personal locator beacon, a whistle, dive knife, and swim goggles and earplugs for practicing my rolling.  Towards the end of the trip, I realized I wasn't taking many pictures, so I started carrying my camera in my PFD pocket instead of my swim goggles.

Other standard paddling gear included a bilge pump, sponge, and inflatable paddle float.  I carried snacks, my coffee thermos, water, and sunglasses in a waterproof deck bag from MEC.  That thing was a revelation--the only really waterproof deck bag I've ever used, closed with a screw-in Beckson hatch.  I also installed a compass on deck before the trip and found it to be quite useful for navigating labyrinthine channels in the San Juans and some parts of Southeast Alaska.

Reflections on Kayaking Food

This summer was a new experience for me, and I learned a lot.  However, one area where things generally worked out pretty well for me was in menu planning and cooking.  A few thoughts on food here:

1.  The food dehydrator was a life-saver.  My menu was really enriched by cooking hearty one pot meals and sauces at home, then drying in my home dehydrator.  I found recipes that I liked for chili, spaghetti sauce, beef stroganoff, turkey tagine, chicken jambalaya, and other meals, cooked big batches at home, ate half for dinners and lunches and dried half in the food dryer.  Where recipes called for beef, I would generally use ground turkey or ground chicken (easier to rehydrate).  Turkey pepperoni was another common substitution.  I also spent a lot of time drying fruits and vegetables which I mixed in with my breakfasts and dinners and sometimes ate as snacks.  Frozen corn, broccoli, peas, peppers, and mixed veggies dry up very well and rehydrate easily.

2.  A soup thermos was also very useful.  I carried two vacuum bottles all summer.  The first was a coffee thermos that I would fill up every morning and drink throughout the day--very nice on cold, rainy Southeast Alaska afternoons.  The second was a wide-mouth soup thermos.  I started off with a 16 oz. wide-mouth, then switched to a somewhat larger (18 oz.) container half way through.  Typically, I would use the vacuum bottle to rehydrate my dehydrated dinner, placing the ziplock bag of dehydrated food (chili, stroganoff, whatever) in the container in the morning, and filling the bag part way with boiling water as I cooked my breakfast.  I would then seal the bag, close the bottle, and stow for the day.  In some cases, I would also partially fill the thermos with cous cous or rice as a base for the meal, add the stroganoff (or whatever) and water, and seal.  By dinnertime, the food would be completely rehydrated, and often still warm.  Sometimes I would reheat dinner on my stove, but I would often eat it straight from the thermos or the bag without reheating, even when it was lukewarm (I was usually hungry!)  This approach saved a lot of cooking time and no doubt a fair bit of stove fuel.

3.  My MSR Dragonfly was a great companion.  I spent a lot of time before the trip agonizing about what stove to bring.  I've been spending time in the outdoors for a long time and have accumulated a lot of gear over the years--I considered using an old MSR Simmerlite for the trip, a Jetboil I inherited, an alcohol-burning Trangia, a wood-burning Emberlit and even a stove I made myself out of old pop cans.  All of these alternatives had advantages and disadvantages.  I picked the Dragonfly mostly because it was the newest of my stoves and I thought it was the least likely to let me down halfway.  I found that the Dragonfly's ability to easily simmer at low temperatures was a great advantage on a trip of this length--I believe it saved me a great deal of fuel which ultimately lightened my load,  (especially towards the end of the trip, once I had a good handle on how much fuel I was using).  This despite the fact that the Dragonfly is among the heaviest of my stoves.  For whatever reason, I continue to spend a lot of time weighing the advantages and disadvantages of different types of stoves for paddling, and still want to try out one of those home made soda can stoves on a longish trip, but experiments aside, I had a very good experience with the Dragonfly and will use it again.

4.  Breakfast burritos are great.  Medium sized tortillas are just about the right size to sit efficiently in the bottom of a bear keg, and a single-serving package of ova easy powdered eggs (the best kind, despite the terrible/wonderful pun of a name) makes a great dinner.  I would add instant hash browns, dried vegetables of all kinds, mushrooms, whatever to about a cup of water, bring to a boil, then add eggs and a package of bacon bits, turn off the stove and stir.  Put chunks of cheese in the mix to melt for a minute before eating your burrito with a little salt and hot sauce (in my case, both probably stolen from Taco Bell).  Carl and I often wondered if we could skip the salt and just cook with ocean water, but never tried it.  Maybe next time.  I also have inherited several boxes of freeze dried refried beans that will be part of my repertoire the next time I take a long paddle.

5.  The bear can fits in the cockpit.  Or, at least, my bear can fits in my cockpit, just afore my foot pegs (and my foot pegs held it in place in case of a wet exit).  I would double-bag the food in the bear can with trash bags, which seemed to keep everything dry, even on the couple of occasions I got a lot of water in the kayak (fortunately always from having waves break into the cockpit on a launch or landing--I never unintentionally capsized).  This freed up a lot of space that I could use elsewhere in the boat.  I also carried an ursack that fit right astern of the cockpit, in the stern compartment.  Putting too much weight in the bear can up there towards the bow tended to contribute to weathercocking in a tailwind, so I would consider using two ursacks in the stern and figuring out another way to use the cockpit space.  I did have to bear bag food a few times, and I paddled with partners who bear-bagged the whole time, but hanging your food is such a pain and takes so much time--bear cans and ursacks are much easier and work fine.

Other meals that I really enjoyed included dehydrated mashed potatoes (actually served with chili), fettuccine carbonara, and mac and cheese.  These last two I would also use packaged "real" bacon bits, and I added peppers to the mac and cheese where I could (should have dried a bunch of jalapeños before the trip but didn't think of it).  Also used powdered whole milk ("Nido").

On the other hand, I planned to eat a fair bit of curry (with Japanese-style curry blocks) served with noodles or rice, cashews and dried veggies, but got tired of that pretty quickly.  Also brought a little spice jar of fish rub which I never used.  Didn't spend enough time fishing, though on a trip with a more relaxed itinerary, that might come in handy.

Of course, everybody's tastes are a little different, and the things that I really enjoyed eating might not be very good for other people.  The trick for me has been to gradually build up a repertoire of eight or ten meals that I really like and can cook easily in the backcountry.  That's plenty of variety, even for a long trip.  I've stolen a lot of ideas from paddling partners!

With regard to gear for cooking, most of my setup was pretty traditional.  I used a small (1.5 qt.) pot that fit my stove, though I generally prefer a somewhat smaller coffee-pot, which I find useful for pouring and draining pasta.  My coffee pots don't fit my stove well, though (where I generally store the stove) or don't fit in small dry bags, and I've had bad luck getting salt water and sand in the stove fuel line if I don't dry bag it up.  I also brought a folding backpackers grille, but mailed it home fairly quickly, and carried a folding saw all summer but almost never used it.  I have been on kayak trips in the past when I regretted not  carrying a saw, and In retrospect, I might still carry one, but would probably carry a small handheld folding model, rather than the homemade bucksaw I used.  Maybe even just a folding knife with a saw blade.  Though I contend that my bucksaw (made it myself!) was much cooler.  Only made fires a few times, and generally on dry evenings when there was plenty of appropriately-sized driftwood about.

Gustavus to Sitka Waypoints

Put together a .kmz file with waypoints from my paddle from Gustavus to Sitka.  These are mostly campsites, but a few other points of interest as well.  Available here.

August 11-13: Brent's Beach to Sitka, then back to Juneau

It's always a little anticlimactic to end a beautiful trip, and this trip, at the end of such a varied, beautiful summer, was no exception.

Concerns about incoming stormy weather got us on the water relatively early, and our paddle to Starrigavan Bay, on the North end of the Sitka road system, was uneventful.  We planned to stay at the Starrigavan USFS campground, which is pretty and well maintained, with sites right on the water.  It's also a very short paddle to the ferry terminal, though the campground is a little rustic, with no showers or other services.

The campground gets cellular reception (actually, we also had reception the night before, at Brent's Beach), so it was easy to call a taxi for a ride into town.  We stopped at the local laundromat for showers, which put us within easy walking distance of downtown Sitka, with pizza and ice cream, and very good Mexican food, among other treats.  It was good to be eating pie at the Sitka airport when the wind started to blow.

I was a little heartsick to learn that I had mis-remembered the ferry schedule, and as a result wound up missing an afternoon ferry on the 11th, which would have gotten us home that same day.  The result was an couple of unnecessary nights in Sitka; always a lovely place to spend time, though I was itching to be home after all summer away.  Mostly to kill time, we took a short paddle into Katlian Bay on the 12th, then more Mexican food.

Made it home to Juneau on the 13th, after a 10 hour ride on the M/V Matanuska.  An infrequently used boatyard next to the Sitka ferry terminal has twice now been a landing spot at the end of trips like these--easier to paddle from the campground to the ferry terminal then carry gear for a half mile on the road, so we risked the chance that we might be trespassing.  Pancakes and greasy bacon on the ferry, then a nap in the solarium.

It was good to be home.

August 10: Leo Anchorage to Brent's Beach

With weather forecasts still predicting strong Southerlies for the afternoon of the 11th, we were happy to be near the end of our outside coast stretch.  I was a little sad to give up on my hope of a trip extension around the outside of Kruzof Island, and although Jason and Christian would rather the trip was longer overall, I think we were all pretty happy to have experienced such exceptional weather on such a beautiful stretch of coastline.

Tame scenery and hats near Sukoi Pt.

With one relatively exposed section remaining, we headed out of Leo Anchorage under glassy conditions, quickly turning into Salisbury Sound, where were pushed in by moderate West winds that strengthened to perhaps 15 knots by late morning.  We stopped and took a lunch break at the mouth of Sukoi Inlet, near Sukoi Point, then headed back into protected waters once more.  I remembered being struck by the austere beauty of the area the previous time I had paddled in Salisbury Sound--also with Jason--two summers prior.  Now, by comparison with what we had paddled through, it all seemed quite tame.

Paddling down Sukoi Inlet

Although it is possible to paddle into Krestof Sound from Sukoi Inlet, the Southern end of the inlet dries at low tide, and was only a few feet deep when we paddled through, quite near high.  At one point, we startled a land otter near the bank, who dove into the water and swam directly under my kayak, clearly visible in the shallow water.  A few minutes later, we watched an eagle snatch a small pink salmon from the water in front of us, and not forty minutes after that, we surprised a brown bear swimming across the channel.

Fading in the heat, with the sun beating down and no wind, we paddled towards, then through the Magoun Islands, searching for a campsite.  By that time, we were in easy striking distance of Sitka the next day and every additional mile was a bonus.  We debated camping near Point Brown, at the entrance to Sitka Sound, but decided to push on to Brent's Beach, where there is another Forest Service cabin.  We arrived to find the cabin empty, and although we worried we might be disturbed by paying visitors from Sitka, we were undisturbed.  A good thing, since good tent sites near the cabin were in short supply.

Brent's Beach

August 9: Drip Point to Leo Anchorage

South of Khaz Head

The 9th was likely the second most exposed day of my summer of paddling, after Cape Caution.  Shortly after departing Drip Point, we would round Khaz Head and be exposed to the open Pacific for about six nautical miles.  Although this stretch is much shorter than the area around Cape Caution, it is also exposed to the full brunt of ocean swell, with no protected alternatives  Anticipating several further days of excellent weather but a possible change on the afternoon of the 11th, we felt some pressure to paddle through this section, and to make it through Salisbury Sound, also quite exposed, into more protected waters by the time nasty weather would begin.

However, before heading out to open water, we needed to fill up our water supplies, which were running quite low.  We found a small cove N of Khaz Head with a little stream, but our refill took some time--we should have planned better and taken a break for water the day before.

Even so, we made good time and had little trouble with weather.  Swells were predicted for 5', and even close to shore, with depth effects, were probably no more than that.  Overall, quite pleasant, with another Northerly to speed us along.

The paddle was mostly uneventful, and we made the protected area around Leo Anchorage by late afternoon.  There, we found a lovely campsite which has obviously been frequently used.  NE of Fortuna Strait, a small islet is joined to Chichagof I. by a gravel and cobble tombolo.  On the Chichagof side, the established campsite has a fire ring and driftwood benches.

After pulling out and setting up camp, I took the opportunity to test paddle Christian's Avocet--a bit slower than my kayak, but easier to turn and roll.  Quite a roadster.

Looking Northwest from Leo Anchorage, watching the Seine Fleet head home.

August 8: Greentop to Drip Point

By the 8th, marine weather forecasts were predicting the end of the unbelievably good stretch of weather we had been experiencing since at least the 2nd.  With a few more days of good weather, but a series of fronts coming through after that, I was nervous that we might get caught on the outer coast for some indeterminate amount of time.  And after a number of relatively short days, I was itching to put in a few miles.

Snack break at Imperial Passage

We said our goodbyes mid-morning on the 8th, after packing up and cleaning out the cabin, then headed out of Greentop Harbor, across the mouth of Lisianski Strait, and across Islas Bay into White Sulphur Hot Springs, where there is a Forest Service cabin and a covered enclosure over the hot springs.  Jason and Christian had a good soak while I, ambivalent about hot tubbing in that day's 70-degree weather, heated up some water to rehydrate chili for dinner.  All for the best, since we needed somebody to watch the kayaks as the tide rose.

In the end, I decided to jump in for a quick dip and a scrub, then a quick jump into the tepid ocean where the hot springs water ran into the salt.  Felt human again, drying in the sun, though it did make putting my grungy sweatpants and shirt back on a little bit of a moral challenge.

Jason and Christian looking spicy

After our stop at the hot springs, we pushed on, paddling outside of Hill Island, assisted by a growing Northerly.  We made good time to Imperial Passage, where we pulled into a sheltered slot beach, startling a lone Sitka Blacktail as paddled in.  There, a quick snack break, then East into Portlock Harbor, then Surveyor passage.  In these sheltered areas, it was easy to forget the 4' swell outside.  Plenty of sea otters and seine boats throughout.

As we neared the Northern end of Ogden Passage, we started looking, unsuccessfully, for a campsite. What we saw was mostly uneven and rocky.  We found a pleasant site at Drip Point, however, which is on a small island with a North-facing beach, and a smaller beach just S of the point, with a SW aspect.  Here, we found good tent sites and a convenient place to pull out.

One of the things I learned this summer is that I don't eat as much as I think I do--my meal plan is always a little skimpy by the standards of my paddling partners.  Par for the course, my chili dinner, planned for that evening, turned out to be a little underpowered for Jason and Christian, so we served it over a helping of mashed potatoes, which turned out to be a dynamite combination.

Cooking dinner at Drip Point, enjoying the evening light.

August 7: Bohemia Basin to Greentop

Another relatively short day paddling down Lisianski strait, mostly helped by an outgoing tide, and into Greentop harbor, followed by some visiting.  Nothing especially notable, except for the beautiful scenery of the outer coast, and the confusing though pretty labyrinth of Greentop harbor.

At one time, Greentop was a cannery town.  Never very big, it currently has a few seasonal residents and a Forest Service cabin.  The cabin can be reached from Greentop Harbor, but in foul weather can also be accessed from Lisianski Strait, via a trail to "Chickenshit Cove," more politely known as "Chicken Cove."  Like the rest of this stretch, our weather was perfect, with hardly any wind and sunny weather, so we headed through "Hole in the Wall" and into Greentop through the harbor itself.

One of Jason's research colleagues has a seasonal cabin at Greentop, so after moving our stuff into the large USFS cabin, we wandered over, chatted with the neighbors (who are full time Pelican residents, escaping to Greentop during the summer to get away from the noise!) and had an excellent dinner: salmon, bread, salad grown in the garden.  A very pleasant evening.

August 6: Basalt Knob to Bohemia Basin

Beautiful Pelican, Alaska

Another mid-morning departure (no headless salmon or bear tracks on the beach this morning!), with plenty of time before the ferry's arrival, mid-afternoon, in Pelican.  We caught another tailwind down the inlet, and arrived before Noon, pulling out just beside the ferry dock on a small gravel beach. Once in town, we found out that the ferry would be delayed by several hours, which left us plenty of time to explore.  Unfortunately, it was Sunday, so not much was open (not that there's a lot in town anyways), but we managed to eat a pizza and enjoy the sunny weather.  The community of Pelican is mostly built on pilings along a boardwalk around a tidal area; feels a bit like a college dorm filled with fishermen and old hippies.

Looking towards Pelican from Bohemia Basin

After a bit of a wait, and some conversation with the locals, the ferry arrived and we unpacked and set out.  Our morning tailwind had strengthened a bit, and as we needed to backtrack several miles to the Eastern end of Lisianski strait, we now faced a significant headwind.  We were able to duck out of the wind a bit by paddling up the Western side of the inlet, and were accompanied by a family of Killer Whales for several miles, which helped us keep our minds off our troubles.  At one point, the largest of the Orcas was no further than 75 or 80 feet away.  Quite a treat.  When we turned West into Lisianski Strait, we were happily well-protected from the wind, though we faced a strong contrary current for a few miles.  Nevertheless, we made it to the Bohemia Basin Forest Service shelter without too much trouble, riding eddies most of the way.

The shelter itself is a typical Forest Service emergency shelter: reservation-free, no-fee, three sided Adirondack with a wood stove and wooden bunks.  It was also unfortunately typical in that the party before us had not been especially conscientious about keeping a clean camp, and there was quite a bit of food waste around the site.  Alaskans, pack your food waste out!  Those eggshells and tuna cans are easy to carry and if you leave them, say, sitting in the middle of the fire ring, they might lead to unpleasant issues for future campers!

Despite our triumphs and struggles with wind earlier in the day, the evening was quite calm, therefore also quite buggy.  Christian and Jason are apparently tougher than I am, and slept quite well despite mosquitos and white socks.  I decided to set up my tent (without fly) inside the shelter in order to stay sane, however, and spent a pleasant night.

August 5: Column Point to Basalt Knob

Basalt Knob Campsite

Another short day, with only a short distance to go before we were due to meet Christian on the 6th in Pelican.  We packed up slowly in the morning, after noting bear sign on the beach from the night before, and headed down Lisianski Inlet, weaving around seiners on the way.  Although I had experienced an uncomfortable moment with a  rude fisherman earlier on in the summer, and was a little nervous--for some reason, he felt the need to stand on deck and stare me down as I paddled around--we were universally treated kindly, with several seine skiffs moving away from shore so we could get by.

Jason, coming back up

We got a nice push from a Northerly breeze that may have been blowing 25 knots by early afternoon, and were able to surf wind waves down the channel.  Jason's Tempest seemed especially to catch a push from these relatively small waves, even at times when my longer boat would get bogged down.

We found a nice campsite about five miles from Pelican, on a beach just South of Basalt Knob, a dark rocky bluff.  We took advantage of the warm sunny day to practice some self-rescue; this was the first time I had tested my two piece dry-top/bib combo in any kind of rescue other than a roll.  While the two piece arrangement keeps me completely dry while rolling, I did get wet when I had to swim, practicing paddle float rescues, or reentry and roll.  No problem in the warm weather we had been having, and it would take a long time before I would be soaked, but an important consideration in colder weather and more exposed conditions.  Important to think about.

As an aside, I did find the two-piece arrangement exceptionally convenient for this kind of trip, with long stretches of camping in often wet weather.  On a rainy day, it was easy to put my bibs on first thing, essentially treating them as rain bibs, and wearing them with a rain jacket.  I could then put the dry top on just before my PFD and sprayskirt, leaving my rain jacket to pack last.  Likewise, working around camp in paddling bibs in the evening was not uncomfortable.  I'm tempted to spring for a regular drysuit for future paddling trips which involve more exposed conditions (for example, a possible trip around the Southern tip of Baranof island or more paddling in the Cross Sound area), but it will be tempting to bring a two pice setup much of the time, because of the added comfort and convenience.

Wearing my NRS paddling top, earlier on
in the trip.  Cowboy hat FTW.

I had hoped that the NRS paddling top with neoprene neck gasket would double as a rain jacket, but I found that the difficulty of getting the jacket on and off--especially getting in and out of the tent--made such a use impractical.  However, I did find the paddling top to be very helpful in giving my skin a break from the dry top's latex neck gasket.  Applying KY jelly in the morning and periodically through the day certainly reduced the pain I have often experienced from wearing drysuit gaskets at the neck, but there were still times when, given the length of my paddling trips this summer, the paddling jacket was a figurative lifesaver.  Of course, this meant that I was carrying three similar jackets!  Everything fit just fine, but one can be forgiven for thinking this approach might be overkill.

As an aside from my aside, I wonder if the most efficient strategy might be something along the lines of a storm cagoule/Tuiliq--a long paddling overgarment, potentially with a double-tunnel skirt for integrating with paddling bibs--that would serve as a rain jacket, paddling jacket, and overgarment for foul weather paddling.  In my head, such a garment would be waterproof, probably not breathable, and would be stitched from cuben/dyneema fabric.  Future gear project?