A few favourite quotes

Looking back through some files, I found a few of my old favourite kayaking-related quotes - always good to keep life in some perspective.

“No one paddles to be rescued.”
I think this was Sam Crowley, but he touches on a theme dear to my heart. Kayaking is about self-sufficiency, thus we each have a responsibility for our own personal safety.

And in that vein, no one can beat good ol’ Tassie, Laurie Ford:
“Any misguided fool who goes to sea with the implicit belief that someone will come to their rescue, is a bloody idiot.”

“No one, in my opinion, should embark on the open ocean, the Antarctic, or any wilderness for that matter, not prepared to get out of trouble by his own efforts. By voluntarily challenging the elements he automatically assumes the responsibility for his own safety. He should not expect anyone to risk life and property on his behalf. The very idea of possible rescue is debilitating to the will; it should be replaced by self reliance.”
David Lewis

Mind you, a few years after he said this, David did set off his EPIRB when sails were shredded and fuel gone, off the coast of NZ, and they accepted fuel to stooge back to the Bay of Islands. Reading his autobiography, Shapes on the Wind, a few weeks ago, I don't think he ever really forgave himself for doing so.

I have this one on my office wall...
"Never put your body where your mind hasn’t been first.”
Chris Duff

And this one...
”Inspiration without nuts and bolts practicality and bit-by-bit efficiency is futile.”
Audrey Sutherland

“The fact is, in real canoeing, that is, in wild and unknown lands, you find no smooth roads to wheel a boat upon…”
John MacGregor

“Sea kayaking is about journeying. Sea kayaking is about exploring. Sea kayaking is about sharing experiences and memories with others. There is more to sea kayaking than just paddling.”
Pete Dingle

“Paddling efficiently must be every one’s aim.”
Laurie Ford

“If I have learned one thing in my 54 years, it is that it is very good for the character to engage in sports which put your life in danger from time to time. It breeds a saneness in dealing with day to day trivialities which probably cannot be got in any other way, and a habit of quick decisions.”
Nevil Shute

Laurie Ford also thought, in relation to Nevil Shute (his favourite author, and one of mine) and putting your life in danger, that “… if you are not doing so - then you are not being adventurous.”

“Wherever there is a channel for water, there is a road for the canoe.”
Henry David Thoreau

"In theory there is no difference between theory and practice. In practice there is."
Yogi Berra

"... a skeg is a failed rudder."
Sandy, Qajaq NZ

"I want some adventure."
Kristen, 1990, while sitting on Southbank on the Thames, London, on her way into work.
"I want to go shopping."
Theresa (flatmate, worked in same C&L office), in response.

Any of your own?

National Jandal Day

80% of Kiwis own a pair or more of jandals - this Kiwi has at least four pairs lying around somewhere - so what better way to raise money for Surf Life Saving New Zealand, than to pay to wear your jandals to work. For tomorrow (today in NZ) is the inaugural National Jandal Day!

Jandals are an icon in NZ - Ozzies call them thongs, as do the French, Yanks are more likely to call them flip-flops, as do the Brits. In Hawaii they're called slippers and in Guam zorries... But they're that ubiquitous bit of summer clothing that nearly every Kiwi finds an essential piece of wardrobe kit.

The modern design rubber jandal was first patented in New Zealand in 1957 by Maurice Yock. On a trip to Hong Kong, Mr Yock had seen a similar product called a Japanese Sandal manufactured from plastic by John Cowie & Co. The Japanese were wearing their "Japanese Sandals" made of woven and wooden bases for centuries before the word "Jandal" was coined. And legend has it that the word jandal came from the combination of Japanese sandals: Japanese + sandals = jandals.

And, of course, the Ozzies think they invented the jandal - didn't, of course.

National Jandal Day is all for a good cause. Last year 1,440 lives were saved by NZ's Surf Lifeguards. NZ has a drowning rate twice that per capita of Australia, which is pretty shocking, so let's hope everyone wears their jandals to work today!

All I want for Christmas...

... are abs like Greg Barton. Well, so the latest Canoe & Kayak Buyers Guide for 2008 promised me I could have. I figure, with core muscles like his, I'll smoke the competition in next year's Everglades Challenge. (And the magazine also promised great apres-paddle results too!)

So on Monday, after a few weeks (read: nearly a month) of inactivity due to a few jollies to Florida and NZ, I started Greg's eight stomach-crunch exercise program. Apparently the difference between Greg and we mere mortals is that he does each of his eight crunches for 60 seconds, and we do them for only 30 seconds. Well, I'll have to report that I'm still at the mere mortal level, after another session this morning.

But it must be doing something, because when I walk around the office or sneeze, I swear I can feel every individual core muscle.

So in the interest of sharing the pain, here we go - 60 seconds each, no stopping between changeovers...

1. Lay flat on the floor with legs slightly bent, and crunch your stomach to 30 degrees.
2. Lift your knees to your chest and touch elbows with each rep.
3. Now lift your legs in the air so your body forms an "L" and point your hands forward, palms-down just off the ground. Keep crunching!
4. Keep your legs in the air and put your hands behind your head. Bring your legs up to meet your elbows with every crunch.
5. Now bend your knees and continue crunching in a bicycle motion, twisting so you bring your opposite knee to your elbow with each crunch.
6. Lay on your back with one foot flat on the floor close to your buttocks. Cross the other leg on your knee. Twist while crunching so your elbow touches your crossing knee.
7. Repeat with your other leg crossed.
8. Back to the "L" position with hands extended, and flutter kick while you crunch, touching your toes with the opposite hand each time.

Collapse.

Winter paddling

Excellent couple of hours paddle out on the lake yesterday (“You’re only back a week and you think you’re going paddling?”), partly to test out my new SPOT satellite tracker, courtesy of my fabulous Everglades Challenge sponsor, BubbaGirl. But more of that when I'm done testing.

Cool air temps around C10, but flat calm to start off with. Trouble is, when you’re dressing for immersion, you tend to cook once you get a bit of steam up. And I have to giggle a bit with the expensive breathable gear we love to buy, and then we throw a non-breathable PDF and neoprene sprayskirt over most of our torsos.

But I’d rather be toasty than hypothermic, so headed off with a skin layer of Icebreaker merino, followed by a Mysterioso M-tech top, Fuzzy Rubber on that, topped off with a semi-dry Rapidstyle spray jacket. For leggings I wore Mysterioso M-tech with a pair of Fuzzy Rubber Sticky Buns pants over that. On my feet, a pair of SmartWool liner socks, waterproof socks over that, encased with a pair of NRS Boundary shoes. Hands wise, a pair of 2mm neoprene gloves from Kayak Tom and, wrapped around my Greenland paddle, a pair of 3mm Rapidstyle metalite mitts. Taking my beanie and Tilley hat off my head did help cool me down a bit. And I drank heaps.

The wind had got up a bit by the time I got back to the put in, and I felt decidedly chilled by the time I had the boat back atop the ol’ 4-Runner, which made me feel a wee bit better. I’m not built for long-term (read: any term) immersion in dang chilly waters, so while I’m winter paddling, dressing for immersion it is.

Silly buggers

"Silly buggers". A term of endearment in NZ, and Australia, said with a bit of a smile and slight twist of the head, adding a touch of respect. But that's what you could probably call Justin Jones and James Castrission, currently paddling their custom-built tandem kayak across the Tasman Sea, on an expedition called "Crossing the Ditch" - a colloquism given to crossing the Tasman.

They left Oz on November 13 and hoped to reach Auckland by Christmas Day, pretty good timing for the 2200km trip. But fairly constant headwinds and tricky currents are taking their toll, adding another 800kms to the tally and making that deadline date probably unreachable. Today, they're about half-way across.

Increased fatigue and waning morale have taken a toll on the expedition. The pair report three indicators each night to their support team to gauge their current stamina. On a scale of one to 10, they each rate today their physical fitness as a seven but their mental toughness and fatigue levels have dropped to five and below.

The toll on their equipment's hurting as well - the salt water's buggering up their rudder cables, and their automatic desalinator pump and cabin bilge pump have given up, taking valuable paddling time away to resort to manual pumping for both.

There's been a bit of controversy (what's new) over whether it's a true "kayak" they're paddling; but who really cares. They're doing it, they're hurting, and I hope they make it. Others haven't.

[Photo above of the boys leaving Forster, Australia on November 13. That's a Mirage kayak seeing them off, a modified version of which Andrew McAuley attempted his Tasman crossing in.]

Back home

It was a magical sail back to Whitianga, and we took two days over it, trying to prolong the time away. Practically no wind at all from Barrier to Mercury Bay, so we motor-sailed along with sails up on auto pilot, watching the view, having a cuppa and reading away.

Then the dolphins found us. I'd never seen so many this year, as well as NZ's wee blue penguin. Always an absolute delight to see them all popping up everywhere. Penguins are smaller in size the further north you go - with the warmer waters - so New Zealand's are quite tiny creatures, compared with Antarctica's beauties.

A day after returning to Whitianga and enjoying the garden and views for the last time, we drove to my sister Clio's in the Waikato for an early Christmas, after visiting mum's memorial stone on the way, and then up to Auckland to fly away home. Rather special was that my mum's three older sisters, all living in Auckland, crammed into the car and saw me off at Auckland International. A few more obligatory tears. They're all in their 80s as well, widows, one with severe MS, and you just don't know if you'll get to hug them again.

I arrived in Los Angeles before I'd left Auckland; and 24 hours after leaving NZ, I was sneaking into bed, at midnight, with the family fast asleep. Home's fine.

Further north

We turned the bow north, up to Great Barrier Island (Aotea), colloquially known as "the Barrier" (or "the bloody Barrier", as a local song goes) . About 900 people live on the Barrier, commonly thought of as all a bit kooky - folks who may not normally want to fit into a more urban, commercially oriented lifestyle. I mean, there's no bloody power on the Barrier! Everyone has to have their own generator - that's kooky enough ;) But if you're into small diesel-powered generators, this is the place to be - they're wonders of machinery and many an hour is spent, over a few (home-brewed) beers, tut-tutting over one another's old fly-wheeled generators (can you hear 'em?).

Tryphena is normally our destination at the Barrier - dad has good friends there - Bro's moved on, but Brian's still there. He rowed out and had a cuppa (tea) and a slice or two of my sister-in-law's marvellous Christmas cake - dad and Brian can talk boats for hours, and I always enjoy catching up with him. He has Hobbit feet - hasn't worn shoes for decades - but he's found that Crocs can sometimes be useful, except on pine needles.

The sail up was great - not quite enough wind, so we kicked in the diesel to help us along and keep the bow up. Looking back to Mercury slipping behind us, I checked on the chart to find out the distance between Mercury and the Barrier - 23 miles. It struck me that what has always seemed to be "way up there" was now a distance that I normally paddle in a day; and during an Everglades Challenge, can be sometimes a third of a day. In fact something that absolutely grabbed me this trip home, was the absolutely fabulous sea kayaking around the NZ coastline and offshore islands. Sigh.

Just before Tryphena we stopped for a few hours in a secluded bay. Dad's been cruising this coastline for nigh on 65 years, and me near 40, but neither of us had visited here before. It was magic - a sandy yellow beach with its own stream, nikau palms and tee-tree. Quite typically we even left dad's jumper on the beach, which we picked up the next morning.

Our last morning in Tryphena was one in a million - flat calm with not a breath of wind, and a clear view of the bottom - not often one gets to see one's own anchor nesting below.

We headed back south...

Sailing away

Nearly a week after I arrived, dad and I packed up the boat and headed off from the marina. The forecast wasn't brilliant - stiff westerlies to nor'westerlies - but we were keen to get away. A following wind took us out Mercury Bay (so-called by Captain James Cook as this was where he observed the transit of Mercury) and around the point. We decided to reef with some good looking swells and white caps charging across between the point and Great Mercury Island, our destination. We were plastered! A tight board with 35-40 knots, we were glad of the extra reefs as the spray flew. And typically, we loved every minute of it.

We spent the next six days stooging around the island, before we headed north to Great Barrier Island. Nary a fish, cray, paua or mussel passed our lips - so much for my plans to live off the seas - with high springs and a metre easterly swell, the best laid rocks and plans didn't quite work out. But amazing what one can do with potatoes, carrots, kumara, pumpkin, eggs, a tin of salmon and a pinch of curry powder. And some wine...

Time with the whanau

Just returned from a few weeks back in Aoteoroa visiting whanau, primarily dad to check up on a few health issues, and then hopefully a week or so out on the boat up the coast. My sister Clio very kindly picked me up from Auckland International, after the obligatory few tears as the big wheels touched town, and drove me to dad's, tucked away in Whitianga on the Coromandel Peninsula. We spent a few days resting up, visiting the clinic, listening to the ever-wonderful Kim Hill on National Radio, and soaking up a few rays. For someone born in 1921, the old man's looking remarkably spry (with a local friend who sometimes comes to visit).

I'll post a few tales and photos of the trip over the next few days, but to wet your whistle, here's a panorama from the deck of the house, overlooking Mercury Bay and Whitianga township.

Paradise.

Me too!

Okay, that’s it. I’ve had enough of all these sheilas heading off to NZ and paddling in MY waters. I’m going too, tomorrow. To Aoteoroa, the land of Minties, Jaffas, Pineapple Lumps, real chocolate, hokey pokey ice cream and the best vino. And spring.

For the first time dad’s admitted that he’s starting to feel his age. Not bad for 86. But if I could just get him to lay down the chain saw for his winter season’s supply of firewood and pay someone to lug all the rolls up the bank, I reckon he’d feel a lot better, and perhaps even reduce what he calls his “cardiac incidents”. But it’s hard to convince someone of this who indignantly proclaims that he’s always done every thing for himself, ALWAYS!

So I’m leaving the family and paddle at home – we’ll take his new grandson back some time next year, when he’s crawling and really creating havoc – and spending a few weeks to catch up. And hopefully we’ll even get away up the coast in the boat for a week or so.

So this ol’ blog will probably be a bit quiet until after Thanksgiving. But dad and I’ll raise a glass to you all.

And the photo? That’s dad’s home built sander, out in his workshop.