Monday, December 31, 2012
Monday photo feature
The complicated business of draining the continent
Yesterday afternoon I went downtown and paddled for 60 minutes on a cold but calm day. The river level was 10.9 feet, the highest Memphis gauge reading since last May. Even though this level is on the low side of medium for this time of year, it felt very high, with the water covering parts of the landscape that had been high and dry for months.
The Mississippi River has been in the national news lately because its low levels have threatened the smooth flow of barge traffic, and so some readers might be surprised to hear me say the water is up here at Memphis. But the Mississippi is a long river, and Memphis is not where the current news-making problem is. That distinction belongs to the section between St. Louis, Missouri, and Cairo, Illinois. Above St. Louis, the lock-and-dam system on the river is pretty reliable for keeping the river at adequate depths for commercial traffic, and at Cairo the Ohio River comes in and increases the Mississippi's flow capacity by about 200 percent. Months of drought conditions in the watershed of the Missouri River (which reaches the Mississippi just above St. Louis), combined with frozen water in the upper reaches of the Mississippi, have resulted in a scarcity of water from St. Louis down to Cairo, where the Ohio provides relief.
Fairly often I find myself explaining the river's behavior to people in other parts of the country, and even to people right here in Memphis who just don't pay much attention to the river.
Back in 1993, when footage of the devastating floods on the upper Mississippi dominated the national news on TV, there was some wailing here in Memphis over our impending doom. But that was all wasted breath, because below-normal flows on the Ohio that summer meant that the lower Mississippi's riverbed had plenty of room to accommodate the water coming down from the upper Midwest.
When we have had heavy rain here in the Memphis area, I sometimes hear the question "Has all this rain brought the Mississippi up?" The answer is always no. Local rainfall does bring up our small rivers, like the Wolf. But even an enormous infusion of water from the Wolf is not enough to make a noticeable change in the Memphis gauge reading on the Mississippi. Wolf River water does, however, combine with flows from other area tributaries like the Loosahatchie River and Nonconnah Creek to affect Mississippi River levels farther downstream.
The most appalling display of local ignorance of our river's ways occurred in May of 2011, when the river rose to the second-highest level ever recorded at Memphis. Before the floodwater had even arrived here, I had a conversation with a conspiracy theorist who claimed that the government was holding back information and that anything and everything near the river was liable to be washed away at any moment. I calmly explained that flash floods don't happen on the Mississippi and that flows are entirely predictable based on precipitation data from higher up in the watershed. But the guy didn't seem convinced. Then came the flood, and with it a caravan of national network news trucks, and suddenly hundreds of people who had never before given the river five seconds of thought were experts on our continent's grandest waterway. One of the worst was Bob Nations, our local director of emergency preparedness, who might really know his stuff when it comes to tornadoes or earthquakes but clearly had no idea how the Mississippi River works. Many other people were so thoughtful as to lecture me on why I should never, ever go near the river with a kayak at any level. Even in the best of times I have a tendency toward misanthropy, so in the interest of personal sanity I had to close my eyes and try to shut out all the misinformation swirling around during the Great Flood of 2011.
Most of the time, thankfully, I am able to do my thing on the river without attracting much attention. As the song goes, the Mississippi "just keeps rollin' along," through times of flood and times of drought and everything in between. And as long as I'm able, I'll keep paddling my boat out there, getting my exercise and enjoying the natural wonders of the place. Happy New Year.
The Mississippi River has been in the national news lately because its low levels have threatened the smooth flow of barge traffic, and so some readers might be surprised to hear me say the water is up here at Memphis. But the Mississippi is a long river, and Memphis is not where the current news-making problem is. That distinction belongs to the section between St. Louis, Missouri, and Cairo, Illinois. Above St. Louis, the lock-and-dam system on the river is pretty reliable for keeping the river at adequate depths for commercial traffic, and at Cairo the Ohio River comes in and increases the Mississippi's flow capacity by about 200 percent. Months of drought conditions in the watershed of the Missouri River (which reaches the Mississippi just above St. Louis), combined with frozen water in the upper reaches of the Mississippi, have resulted in a scarcity of water from St. Louis down to Cairo, where the Ohio provides relief.
Fairly often I find myself explaining the river's behavior to people in other parts of the country, and even to people right here in Memphis who just don't pay much attention to the river.
Back in 1993, when footage of the devastating floods on the upper Mississippi dominated the national news on TV, there was some wailing here in Memphis over our impending doom. But that was all wasted breath, because below-normal flows on the Ohio that summer meant that the lower Mississippi's riverbed had plenty of room to accommodate the water coming down from the upper Midwest.
When we have had heavy rain here in the Memphis area, I sometimes hear the question "Has all this rain brought the Mississippi up?" The answer is always no. Local rainfall does bring up our small rivers, like the Wolf. But even an enormous infusion of water from the Wolf is not enough to make a noticeable change in the Memphis gauge reading on the Mississippi. Wolf River water does, however, combine with flows from other area tributaries like the Loosahatchie River and Nonconnah Creek to affect Mississippi River levels farther downstream.
The most appalling display of local ignorance of our river's ways occurred in May of 2011, when the river rose to the second-highest level ever recorded at Memphis. Before the floodwater had even arrived here, I had a conversation with a conspiracy theorist who claimed that the government was holding back information and that anything and everything near the river was liable to be washed away at any moment. I calmly explained that flash floods don't happen on the Mississippi and that flows are entirely predictable based on precipitation data from higher up in the watershed. But the guy didn't seem convinced. Then came the flood, and with it a caravan of national network news trucks, and suddenly hundreds of people who had never before given the river five seconds of thought were experts on our continent's grandest waterway. One of the worst was Bob Nations, our local director of emergency preparedness, who might really know his stuff when it comes to tornadoes or earthquakes but clearly had no idea how the Mississippi River works. Many other people were so thoughtful as to lecture me on why I should never, ever go near the river with a kayak at any level. Even in the best of times I have a tendency toward misanthropy, so in the interest of personal sanity I had to close my eyes and try to shut out all the misinformation swirling around during the Great Flood of 2011.
Most of the time, thankfully, I am able to do my thing on the river without attracting much attention. As the song goes, the Mississippi "just keeps rollin' along," through times of flood and times of drought and everything in between. And as long as I'm able, I'll keep paddling my boat out there, getting my exercise and enjoying the natural wonders of the place. Happy New Year.
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Race schedule 2013
I've been pondering my competition schedule for this coming year. Right now I definitely plan to do these four races, barring injury or other unforeseen circumstance:
March 2: Fourth annual Battle on the Bayou, Old Fort Bayou, Ocean Springs, Mississippi. Starting in the Back Bay of Biloxi near the mouth of Old Fort Bayou, the course winds nine and a half miles up the bayou to the finish next to The Shed barbecue joint.
April 27: Ninth annual Bluz Cruz Marathon, Mississippi River, Vicksburg, Mississippi. The race starts at Madison Parish Port and finishes 22 miles downriver on the Vicksburg Front.
June 1: Tenth annual Arkansas River Canoe and Kayak Race, Arkansas River, North Little Rock, Arkansas. The five-and-a-half-mile course starts at Murray Park and heads downriver to the Interstate 30 bridge.
June 15: 32nd Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race, Mississippi River, Memphis, Tennessee. Known as "The fastest 5000-meter race in the world," this race draws both world-class racers and people who pull their canoes out of the backyard once a year to participate.
I'd love to work in several more if I can. Generally, I'm looking for events that are either within a reasonable driving distance of Memphis or something that coincides with a vacation trip to a more distant area. And I am not interested in ultra-long races (more than two hours or so).
Anyway, I'll post any updates here as they develop.
March 2: Fourth annual Battle on the Bayou, Old Fort Bayou, Ocean Springs, Mississippi. Starting in the Back Bay of Biloxi near the mouth of Old Fort Bayou, the course winds nine and a half miles up the bayou to the finish next to The Shed barbecue joint.
April 27: Ninth annual Bluz Cruz Marathon, Mississippi River, Vicksburg, Mississippi. The race starts at Madison Parish Port and finishes 22 miles downriver on the Vicksburg Front.
June 1: Tenth annual Arkansas River Canoe and Kayak Race, Arkansas River, North Little Rock, Arkansas. The five-and-a-half-mile course starts at Murray Park and heads downriver to the Interstate 30 bridge.
June 15: 32nd Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race, Mississippi River, Memphis, Tennessee. Known as "The fastest 5000-meter race in the world," this race draws both world-class racers and people who pull their canoes out of the backyard once a year to participate.
I'd love to work in several more if I can. Generally, I'm looking for events that are either within a reasonable driving distance of Memphis or something that coincides with a vacation trip to a more distant area. And I am not interested in ultra-long races (more than two hours or so).
Anyway, I'll post any updates here as they develop.
Thursday, December 27, 2012
A little snow
It snowed here late Tuesday night and early yesterday morning, though not nearly as much as it did west of the river in Arkansas and Missouri. We ended up with an inch or so here in Memphis, and the dock looked like this yesterday morning:
I paddled for an hour. It was quite windy and busy barge traffic made things rough out on the river, so after about ten minutes of fighting that I returned to the harbor. The sky was overcast and the damp, penetrating cold made it the sort of session I couldn't wait to be done with. As soon as my hour was up I threw the boat back up on the rack and made a beeline for my car.
I paddled for an hour. It was quite windy and busy barge traffic made things rough out on the river, so after about ten minutes of fighting that I returned to the harbor. The sky was overcast and the damp, penetrating cold made it the sort of session I couldn't wait to be done with. As soon as my hour was up I threw the boat back up on the rack and made a beeline for my car.
Monday, December 24, 2012
Monday photo feature
I know, the resolution is awful, but it's appropriate for the season. I think Joe snapped this one of me on the same day as last week's photo. Apparently there are chances of snow in the Memphis area tomorrow night, but I'll believe it when I see it.
Sunday, December 23, 2012
All tired out
We're having some more December-like weather now. The sky was dark and threatening rain all day today, but I don't think it ever actually rained except for a light drizzle as I rode my bike down to the river this morning.
I had planned to paddle for just an hour, but I found Joe and Carol Lee Royer getting ready to paddle when I arrived down at the dock, and I ended up paddling all the way up to the mouth of the Wolf with them. At this time of year I see them only once in a while, so it was nice to catch up.
Feeling a little pressed for time, I paddled pretty hard from the mouth of the Wolf back down into the harbor. I was feeling it all over when I got back to the dock, and the bike ride home was the final knockout punch that sent me into naptime after lunch.
I had planned to paddle for just an hour, but I found Joe and Carol Lee Royer getting ready to paddle when I arrived down at the dock, and I ended up paddling all the way up to the mouth of the Wolf with them. At this time of year I see them only once in a while, so it was nice to catch up.
Feeling a little pressed for time, I paddled pretty hard from the mouth of the Wolf back down into the harbor. I was feeling it all over when I got back to the dock, and the bike ride home was the final knockout punch that sent me into naptime after lunch.
Friday, December 21, 2012
Chill
The winter solstice arrived with appropriate weather. When I went down to the river this morning it was somewhere in the low to mid forties with a brisk wind from the north. I wore pogies today for the first time in a very long time: last winter was so mild that I don't think I wore them after February.
At least it was bright and sunny today, and I got good and warm during my hour-long paddling session. The paddling itself is almost never that bad in cold weather; the hard part is standing on the dock before and after, getting the boat down or putting it away, and changing clothes. I guess it's time to get used to it, as the forecast for the next week calls for more seasonable weather.
At least it was bright and sunny today, and I got good and warm during my hour-long paddling session. The paddling itself is almost never that bad in cold weather; the hard part is standing on the dock before and after, getting the boat down or putting it away, and changing clothes. I guess it's time to get used to it, as the forecast for the next week calls for more seasonable weather.
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Various stuff that's going on
My back is feeling better and I'm doing my strength workouts again. Yesterday I did three sets of Jingjing Li's exercise ball drills and today I did the other little thing I do--pushups and cinder block lifts and step-ups and stuff.
I'm still paddling twice a week right now; I've fallen into a Friday and Sunday routine. Today was a nice day and I thought about paddling today since we have some unpleasant weather on the way. But I didn't. We'll see if I regret it when it's time to go to the river on Friday. Channel 5 weatherman Dave Brown says we're going to have some serious wind tonight and tomorrow, and I hope that moves on out by Friday.
My friend Don Walls, an Arkansan who's a mighty good canoe racer both in C1 and in C2 with partner Dale Burris, has a device that's both a heart rate monitor and a GPS, and he downloads maps of where he's paddled and graphs of what his heart has done. An example from one of his workouts is here.
I especially enjoy looking at the map feature. While I'm certainly interested in the physiological stuff that goes on during training, I'm also interested in where a paddler goes and what he sees and experiences. One reason I like paddling so much is that it's a sport that engages all the senses.
As for a heart rate monitor, I used one back in the late 1990s and early 2000s until the chest belt broke, and since then I've just trained by feel. Most of the time I think I know when I'm in the aerobic zone and when I'm going lactic and stuff like that. I know great athletes who claim that a heart rate monitor is indispensable, and maybe I'll come around to that view by and by, but for now I'm happy enough without one.
I'm still paddling twice a week right now; I've fallen into a Friday and Sunday routine. Today was a nice day and I thought about paddling today since we have some unpleasant weather on the way. But I didn't. We'll see if I regret it when it's time to go to the river on Friday. Channel 5 weatherman Dave Brown says we're going to have some serious wind tonight and tomorrow, and I hope that moves on out by Friday.
My friend Don Walls, an Arkansan who's a mighty good canoe racer both in C1 and in C2 with partner Dale Burris, has a device that's both a heart rate monitor and a GPS, and he downloads maps of where he's paddled and graphs of what his heart has done. An example from one of his workouts is here.
Don Walls (bow) and Dale Burris en route to victory in the 2012 Aluminum Nationals on the White River near Allison, Arkansas.
I especially enjoy looking at the map feature. While I'm certainly interested in the physiological stuff that goes on during training, I'm also interested in where a paddler goes and what he sees and experiences. One reason I like paddling so much is that it's a sport that engages all the senses.
As for a heart rate monitor, I used one back in the late 1990s and early 2000s until the chest belt broke, and since then I've just trained by feel. Most of the time I think I know when I'm in the aerobic zone and when I'm going lactic and stuff like that. I know great athletes who claim that a heart rate monitor is indispensable, and maybe I'll come around to that view by and by, but for now I'm happy enough without one.
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Monday, December 17, 2012
Monday photo feature
Joe Royer took this picture of me back in February of 2003. A nice little blanket of snow had just fallen, and the river appears to be somewhere around 30 feet on the Memphis gauge. Right now, as we head into another winter, the temperature is much higher and the water is much lower.
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Lower back healing, higher water coming
There's still a spot of soreness in my left lower back, but I'm otherwise feeling much better. I paddled for an hour this morning, and I felt a lot better in the boat than I did on Friday.
The river is on a pretty dramatic rise right now: the Memphis gauge level this morning was 5.8 feet, and it's forecast to be over 8 feet a couple of days from now. The front that brought some pretty good rainfall here last weekend stretched well up into the upper Mississippi and Ohio basins, and I think that's what's brought about this boost in the water level.
And yet, the river is still quite low--a more typical level for this time of year would be in the teens. That means that any sort of return to normalcy will require continued rain higher up in the watershed. Unless rain continues to fall in the Midwest, we could easily be back below zero a couple of weeks from now.
The river is on a pretty dramatic rise right now: the Memphis gauge level this morning was 5.8 feet, and it's forecast to be over 8 feet a couple of days from now. The front that brought some pretty good rainfall here last weekend stretched well up into the upper Mississippi and Ohio basins, and I think that's what's brought about this boost in the water level.
And yet, the river is still quite low--a more typical level for this time of year would be in the teens. That means that any sort of return to normalcy will require continued rain higher up in the watershed. Unless rain continues to fall in the Midwest, we could easily be back below zero a couple of weeks from now.
Friday, December 14, 2012
Agony and entropy
I spent this week with a hurt back. It started last weekend--the result, I think, of spending all Saturday afternoon standing up at an event. I was in some fairly severe pain Sunday morning. I did paddle Sunday, and actually felt little pain in the boat, but everything else--walking down the ramp to the dock, lifting my boat off the rack, and stuff like that--was a real ordeal.
I was all but laid up the rest of Sunday and Monday. By Tuesday I was starting to move around a bit more and by Wednesday I was stretching gingerly and doing abbreviated versions of the strength exercises I've been doing. Though not pain-free today, I'm feeling significantly better, and this morning I went down to the river to paddle.
Once again, my back felt fine in the boat. But the paddling session felt terrible. It felt as though I hadn't been in a boat in months: sitting upright and taking good strokes was an incredible chore, and I felt somewhat out of breath the whole time even though I paddled easy. Very odd, considering that except for the back issue, this week of training wasn't much different from what I've been doing for the last month.
The body is a funny thing. When I was young and competing as a distance runner, I remember that in training I felt good about fifty percent of the time and terrible about fifty percent of the time. As I got older I gained a better understanding of the roles that good nutrition and hydration and full nights of sleep play in one's mood and energy level, and these days I'd say I feel good out paddling about nine times out of ten. I guess I would chalk today's labored session up to the physical and mental disruption that my back ailment caused me this week.
I was all but laid up the rest of Sunday and Monday. By Tuesday I was starting to move around a bit more and by Wednesday I was stretching gingerly and doing abbreviated versions of the strength exercises I've been doing. Though not pain-free today, I'm feeling significantly better, and this morning I went down to the river to paddle.
Once again, my back felt fine in the boat. But the paddling session felt terrible. It felt as though I hadn't been in a boat in months: sitting upright and taking good strokes was an incredible chore, and I felt somewhat out of breath the whole time even though I paddled easy. Very odd, considering that except for the back issue, this week of training wasn't much different from what I've been doing for the last month.
The body is a funny thing. When I was young and competing as a distance runner, I remember that in training I felt good about fifty percent of the time and terrible about fifty percent of the time. As I got older I gained a better understanding of the roles that good nutrition and hydration and full nights of sleep play in one's mood and energy level, and these days I'd say I feel good out paddling about nine times out of ten. I guess I would chalk today's labored session up to the physical and mental disruption that my back ailment caused me this week.
Monday, December 10, 2012
Doldrums
I've got a nice little routine going these days--doing some strength exercises, paddling my boat a couple times a week--but I'm definitely not in "training mode." At the moment my heart and mind are just not in it. It's a busy time in my professional life, with the holiday season upon us and all. And with three months to go before what will likely be my first race of the season, I haven't been particularly motivated to go out and work my body hard.
Sometimes I hit roadblocks in the thick of the season, too. I might get sick or injured, or I might have some outside obligation suddenly come up, or I might just fall into an emotional funk where I just don't want to deal with training for a few days. In short, a season never goes exactly as planned.
During periods like this I just try to keep moving in some way. If that's not possible because of illness or injury, I tell myself that the rest is not a bad thing--fitness is the result of your recovery from training, after all, and not of the training itself. Either way, when I get back to full speed I'll feel that I've got something to build on.
I spent an hour in my boat on Thursday and another one yesterday. It's turning cold today, but the last few days have been quite warm while also overcast and wet. My two paddling sessions were done in light, misty rain, and I'm not sure the Mississippi River is ever more beautiful than it is in these conditions.
Sometimes I hit roadblocks in the thick of the season, too. I might get sick or injured, or I might have some outside obligation suddenly come up, or I might just fall into an emotional funk where I just don't want to deal with training for a few days. In short, a season never goes exactly as planned.
During periods like this I just try to keep moving in some way. If that's not possible because of illness or injury, I tell myself that the rest is not a bad thing--fitness is the result of your recovery from training, after all, and not of the training itself. Either way, when I get back to full speed I'll feel that I've got something to build on.
I spent an hour in my boat on Thursday and another one yesterday. It's turning cold today, but the last few days have been quite warm while also overcast and wet. My two paddling sessions were done in light, misty rain, and I'm not sure the Mississippi River is ever more beautiful than it is in these conditions.
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Ducky
In my last post I forgot to mention the enormous flock of ducks I encountered as I paddled Friday. It was really windy so I stayed in the harbor, and up near the north end there were some thousand ducks hanging out, taking a break from their southward migration. When they saw me coming they took off en masse, and while I was sorry to disturb them, it was a beautiful sight.
Today I followed the same routine as I did Friday: some strength exercises followed by a bike ride to the river for an hour of paddling. It was windy again today but I ventured onto the river anyway. There was no barge traffic and the water was surprisingly calm.
Yesterday I did a set of the exercise ball drills I've been doing. I'm trying to get in three of those per week.
Today I followed the same routine as I did Friday: some strength exercises followed by a bike ride to the river for an hour of paddling. It was windy again today but I ventured onto the river anyway. There was no barge traffic and the water was surprisingly calm.
Yesterday I did a set of the exercise ball drills I've been doing. I'm trying to get in three of those per week.
Friday, November 30, 2012
Engine's been cool
This morning I did my little cinder block/step-ups/pushups/core exercise routine, and then went down to the river and paddled for an hour.
I rode my bike to the river and back. Until yesterday, I'd had a six-day streak going during which I did not drive a car; I had to drive Martha to the airport yesterday, and that's what broke the streak.
I didn't have many places to go during those six days, and when I did go somewhere I rode my bike. I hadn't set any lofty goal of staying out from under the wheel; it just sort of worked out that way. Once I get in the habit of riding my bike places, it's really pretty easy to do. I think being an athlete and living simply are complementary things.
I rode my bike to the river and back. Until yesterday, I'd had a six-day streak going during which I did not drive a car; I had to drive Martha to the airport yesterday, and that's what broke the streak.
I didn't have many places to go during those six days, and when I did go somewhere I rode my bike. I hadn't set any lofty goal of staying out from under the wheel; it just sort of worked out that way. Once I get in the habit of riding my bike places, it's really pretty easy to do. I think being an athlete and living simply are complementary things.
Monday, November 26, 2012
Some Eighties TV
My left bicep is killing me. I think I might have hurt it in the workshop this morning, when I was moving a bookcase I'm working on. I was trying to lower it from the workbench to the floor and found myself in an awkward position. Middle age... sigh.
I did manage a set of exercise ball drills just before lunch (for those of you just tuning in, I'm doing the static drill demonstrated by Jingjing Li, an Olympic kayaker from China, in this video).
If I'm not mistaken, the U.S. has won five Olympic medals in flatwater sprint. Yes, that's a small number: the sport has been dominated by European nations for most of its history. But 1988 was a remarkable year for the U.S. Team, which entered the Olympic regatta in Seoul with legitimate medal hopes in three events. While the '88 Olympics are now cemented in U.S. canoe and kayak lore, I had never actually seen the television coverage of that competition myself until this past week, when I noticed a link on Face Book of footage that is now posted on You Tube. It is particularly enjoyable for me to watch it now because my involvement in flatwater and open water kayak racing in the last fifteen years or so has given me the opportunity to become friends with two of the leading athletes in those '88 Games, Greg Barton and Mike Herbert.
Here, Mike becomes the first U.S. paddler ever to compete in an Olympic K1 500-meter final.
Greg entered the Games as the reigning K1 1000-meter world champion, and here he tries to win it all again in the Olympic K1 1000-meter final.
Just a little more than an hour later, Greg is back on the water with partner Norm Bellingham for the Olympic K2 1000-meter final.
Many readers of this blog probably already know how the guys did, but I won't spoil it for anybody who doesn't. Watch the videos and re-live the excitement!
I did manage a set of exercise ball drills just before lunch (for those of you just tuning in, I'm doing the static drill demonstrated by Jingjing Li, an Olympic kayaker from China, in this video).
If I'm not mistaken, the U.S. has won five Olympic medals in flatwater sprint. Yes, that's a small number: the sport has been dominated by European nations for most of its history. But 1988 was a remarkable year for the U.S. Team, which entered the Olympic regatta in Seoul with legitimate medal hopes in three events. While the '88 Olympics are now cemented in U.S. canoe and kayak lore, I had never actually seen the television coverage of that competition myself until this past week, when I noticed a link on Face Book of footage that is now posted on You Tube. It is particularly enjoyable for me to watch it now because my involvement in flatwater and open water kayak racing in the last fifteen years or so has given me the opportunity to become friends with two of the leading athletes in those '88 Games, Greg Barton and Mike Herbert.
Here, Mike becomes the first U.S. paddler ever to compete in an Olympic K1 500-meter final.
Greg entered the Games as the reigning K1 1000-meter world champion, and here he tries to win it all again in the Olympic K1 1000-meter final.
Just a little more than an hour later, Greg is back on the water with partner Norm Bellingham for the Olympic K2 1000-meter final.
Many readers of this blog probably already know how the guys did, but I won't spoil it for anybody who doesn't. Watch the videos and re-live the excitement!
Monday photo feature
Since I've been reminiscing about the good old days of Toes and Elbows and camp in general, I thought I'd post a camp picture this week. I went to camp in the days before roto-molded kayaks were widely available, and at that time my camp owned a fleet of aluminum canoes for the lake and a trailer of Royalex canoes for river trips. Most of the time we paddled tandem. Here, I shoot the photo as Wyly Brown mans the stern and Pierre Villere the bow for a run of Lost Guide on the Pigeon River near Hartford, Tennessee.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Gimme Toes and Elbows, you little punk!
Yesterday I did the exercise ball workout I've been doing lately. One of the exercises looks like this:
As I strained to hold the position for 60 seconds, it occurred to me that it was very similar to something my fellow campers and I were made to do back when I was a kid at summer camp: the dreaded "Toes and Elbows." Toes and Elbows was the one-size-fits-all punishment for any of a long list of infractions. Here I am assuming the traditional Toes and Elbows position:
The most sadistic counselors made us do it on a gravel surface so we would end up with rocks embedded in our elbows, or maybe over a pile of fresh horse dung to ratchet up the stakes. But Toes and Elbows was plenty unpleasant on its own because of the extreme discomfort it caused in the abdominal area. Who knew that we were actually strengthening our core muscles?
By the time I was a counselor myself in the mid 1980s, our society's attitude toward corporal punishment was changing, and the camp administration, fearing accusations of child abuse, ordered an end to Toes and Elbows and all other forms of physical discipline. So I never got to exact "revenge" on the next generation of campers. And that's probably a good thing: emotionally-disturbed souls don't need to be running around with carte blanche to dispense torture. But did we unwittingly deprive subsequent generations of the core strength to conquer the world?
Since Rebecca Giddens and Scott Shipley wound up their competitive careers a few years ago, U.S. paddlers have had a tough time in international competition. Even though I am a fan of the U.S. Canoe and Kayak Team, I'm not outraged about it; very few people get to be among the best in the world, and that small group simply doesn't happen to include any U.S. athletes at the moment. But for those who are determined to point the finger of blame, I suggest a look at the demise of Toes and Elbows.
The glory days of U.S. canoe and kayak racing were the 1980s and early 1990s, when flatwater athletes like Mike Herbert, Norm Bellingham, and Greg Barton and whitewater athletes like Jon Lugbill, Dana Chladek, Cathy and Davey Hearn, the Haller brothers, and Rich Weiss were putting our nation on the podium. These people would have been summer campers in the early 80s or before; could it be that they were especially naughty, and had to do lots and lots of Toes and Elbows? I think it is a question that deserves serious study.
By this morning I had recovered enough from my exercise-ball-enhanced Toes and Elbows to do my little workout with the pushups and step-ups and stuff, and then head down to the river. I paddled for 60 minutes in a pretty stiff wind.
As I strained to hold the position for 60 seconds, it occurred to me that it was very similar to something my fellow campers and I were made to do back when I was a kid at summer camp: the dreaded "Toes and Elbows." Toes and Elbows was the one-size-fits-all punishment for any of a long list of infractions. Here I am assuming the traditional Toes and Elbows position:
The most sadistic counselors made us do it on a gravel surface so we would end up with rocks embedded in our elbows, or maybe over a pile of fresh horse dung to ratchet up the stakes. But Toes and Elbows was plenty unpleasant on its own because of the extreme discomfort it caused in the abdominal area. Who knew that we were actually strengthening our core muscles?
By the time I was a counselor myself in the mid 1980s, our society's attitude toward corporal punishment was changing, and the camp administration, fearing accusations of child abuse, ordered an end to Toes and Elbows and all other forms of physical discipline. So I never got to exact "revenge" on the next generation of campers. And that's probably a good thing: emotionally-disturbed souls don't need to be running around with carte blanche to dispense torture. But did we unwittingly deprive subsequent generations of the core strength to conquer the world?
Since Rebecca Giddens and Scott Shipley wound up their competitive careers a few years ago, U.S. paddlers have had a tough time in international competition. Even though I am a fan of the U.S. Canoe and Kayak Team, I'm not outraged about it; very few people get to be among the best in the world, and that small group simply doesn't happen to include any U.S. athletes at the moment. But for those who are determined to point the finger of blame, I suggest a look at the demise of Toes and Elbows.
The glory days of U.S. canoe and kayak racing were the 1980s and early 1990s, when flatwater athletes like Mike Herbert, Norm Bellingham, and Greg Barton and whitewater athletes like Jon Lugbill, Dana Chladek, Cathy and Davey Hearn, the Haller brothers, and Rich Weiss were putting our nation on the podium. These people would have been summer campers in the early 80s or before; could it be that they were especially naughty, and had to do lots and lots of Toes and Elbows? I think it is a question that deserves serious study.
By this morning I had recovered enough from my exercise-ball-enhanced Toes and Elbows to do my little workout with the pushups and step-ups and stuff, and then head down to the river. I paddled for 60 minutes in a pretty stiff wind.
Friday, November 23, 2012
Addition to the family
As the week moves along I'm sore but feeling some benefit from these new strength exercises I'm doing.
This morning I did the exercise routine I alternate with the exercise ball workout. This routine consists of some behind-the-head lifts with a cinder block, some plyometric step-up exercises, some pushups, and a core exercise that Daniele Molmenti demonstrates at 3:47 of this video.
Then I pedaled down to the river and paddled for an hour. It was awfully breezy and cool but the bright sunshine kept me from getting too cold on my surf ski.
Right now I'm paddling just a couple of times a week, but I'll start increasing that in a month or so. I'm hoping that by then I'll have something to help get me excited about it. I've never owned a flatwater sprint K1, and while I've always felt it would be neat to have one I've always restrained myself because it just isn't something I need that badly. I have neither the speed nor the desire to do a bunch of regulation nine-lane sprint races, and the conditions out on the Mississippi River are often not suitable for such an unstable, low-profile craft.
But this week I decided to get one anyway. After doing some shopping around on the Internet, I decided on this beauty:
It's a 2007 Vanquish II ML, manufactured by the Nelo boat company of Vila do Conde, Portugal. Right now it's in Massachusetts, and I have hired KAS Transport to bring it down here on their next run from the Northeast to the Mid South.
I still don't know that I really need a K1, but as midlife-crisis obsessions go, it's a lot more practical than a high-end sports car or a twenty-something nymphomaniac with big blonde hair and breast implants. It should be fun to paddle it in the harbor and mix up my training a little, and I may take it to some of the calmer-water races I do.
This morning I did the exercise routine I alternate with the exercise ball workout. This routine consists of some behind-the-head lifts with a cinder block, some plyometric step-up exercises, some pushups, and a core exercise that Daniele Molmenti demonstrates at 3:47 of this video.
Then I pedaled down to the river and paddled for an hour. It was awfully breezy and cool but the bright sunshine kept me from getting too cold on my surf ski.
Right now I'm paddling just a couple of times a week, but I'll start increasing that in a month or so. I'm hoping that by then I'll have something to help get me excited about it. I've never owned a flatwater sprint K1, and while I've always felt it would be neat to have one I've always restrained myself because it just isn't something I need that badly. I have neither the speed nor the desire to do a bunch of regulation nine-lane sprint races, and the conditions out on the Mississippi River are often not suitable for such an unstable, low-profile craft.
But this week I decided to get one anyway. After doing some shopping around on the Internet, I decided on this beauty:
It's a 2007 Vanquish II ML, manufactured by the Nelo boat company of Vila do Conde, Portugal. Right now it's in Massachusetts, and I have hired KAS Transport to bring it down here on their next run from the Northeast to the Mid South.
I still don't know that I really need a K1, but as midlife-crisis obsessions go, it's a lot more practical than a high-end sports car or a twenty-something nymphomaniac with big blonde hair and breast implants. It should be fun to paddle it in the harbor and mix up my training a little, and I may take it to some of the calmer-water races I do.
Monday, November 19, 2012
Harbor cleanup video
Back on the 15th of September I participated in a cleanup of the Wolf River Harbor at downtown Memphis. Here's a video that the folks at Outdoors, Inc., one of the event's sponsors, put together.
Monday photo feature
From drawknife work to axe work to sawing to moving logs and lumber around, I get plenty of exercise as a woodworker. But I've never really been able to incorporate it into what I consider my "formal" training because it's not something I can easily quantify. One project might have me doing several days of heavy drawknifing, and then the next project won't involve any drawknife work at all.
And so, I do strength exercises like the ones I've been talking about in my last couple of posts. My hope is that piling that on top of my non-sedentary day job will make me one strong dude indeed.
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Getting back into a daily routine
I had two good 60-minutes paddling sessions on the river this weekend. I rode my bike down there and back each day. It was cool but sunny, and almost dead calm. We've had a lot of windy days this month and it was nice to get a break from that.
I've also got what I think is a good strength routine worked out. Every other day I'm doing the exercise ball drills in the Jingjing Li video--the static ones that she demonstrates in the first 2:27. They're surprisingly taxing. On the days I don't do that routine I do a simple set of exercises including pushups and behind-the-head lifts with a cinder block, just to get a little arm work in.
And so here I go, easing into training for a new race season after taking some time off. It's still way early and it'll be a while before I get serious in the boat again, but the first step is to get into doing a little something every day. Once I pile up a few weeks of these simple little workouts, I always start to feel some physical and psychological benefit.
I've also got what I think is a good strength routine worked out. Every other day I'm doing the exercise ball drills in the Jingjing Li video--the static ones that she demonstrates in the first 2:27. They're surprisingly taxing. On the days I don't do that routine I do a simple set of exercises including pushups and behind-the-head lifts with a cinder block, just to get a little arm work in.
And so here I go, easing into training for a new race season after taking some time off. It's still way early and it'll be a while before I get serious in the boat again, but the first step is to get into doing a little something every day. Once I pile up a few weeks of these simple little workouts, I always start to feel some physical and psychological benefit.
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Back to the gym
The race season is still quite a ways off, but I've decided it's time for me to start up some offseason strength conditioning. As a reader pointed out to me this week, my recent back ailment is a sign that my core needs some work, and I think that's something I will emphasize for the next while.
Years ago I bought an exercise ball, and while I've done stuff with it off and on, I feel I haven't used it to its full potential. During the Olympics this past summer I happened across a video of Jingjing Li, China's female entrant in the whitewater slalom race in London, demonstrating some exercise ball drills, and I have now gone back and found it here. I tried a set of her static drills this morning, and for me, the most difficult exercise was the one starting at about 1:50. I had a very hard time balancing myself in this position for more than 10 or 15 seconds, especially with my left side up. I got pretty frustrated, but I think it simply highlights a weak area for me and I think it's a good opportunity to get stronger if I stick with it.
While searching for Jingjing Li's video I also found this video of Italian Daniele Molmenti, the Olympic champion in men's slalom kayak in London, demonstrating some "backpacker" exercises (i.e., exercises that require little or no equipment and therefore can be done while traveling). He shows us some interesting pushup variations and rubber band exercises.
Over the next few days I plan to keep trying out these exercises and put together a routine to carry me through the next month or two.
Years ago I bought an exercise ball, and while I've done stuff with it off and on, I feel I haven't used it to its full potential. During the Olympics this past summer I happened across a video of Jingjing Li, China's female entrant in the whitewater slalom race in London, demonstrating some exercise ball drills, and I have now gone back and found it here. I tried a set of her static drills this morning, and for me, the most difficult exercise was the one starting at about 1:50. I had a very hard time balancing myself in this position for more than 10 or 15 seconds, especially with my left side up. I got pretty frustrated, but I think it simply highlights a weak area for me and I think it's a good opportunity to get stronger if I stick with it.
While searching for Jingjing Li's video I also found this video of Italian Daniele Molmenti, the Olympic champion in men's slalom kayak in London, demonstrating some "backpacker" exercises (i.e., exercises that require little or no equipment and therefore can be done while traveling). He shows us some interesting pushup variations and rubber band exercises.
Over the next few days I plan to keep trying out these exercises and put together a routine to carry me through the next month or two.
Monday, November 12, 2012
Monday photo feature
Today the tennis court is long gone, and the house is unlivable to say the least. My cousin's family blames the Corps of Engineers for constructing wing dams that directed the river's flow against the bluff, and for all I know they may be right. But the wandering, meandering river would have claimed the home site eventually, in a few centuries if not in a few decades.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Mugging for the camera
I rode my bike downtown today and paddled for 80 minutes. It was awfully windy out on the river, and the presence of heavy barge traffic made the water fairly rough. I tried to stay relaxed and not fight the water.
My back is still hurting, but improving. One thing that hadn't occurred to me when I wrote my last post is that I might have hurt myself doing yard work, of all things, on Thursday. There was a layer of half-composted leaves in the street gutter along one side of the house, and I used a flat-nosed shovel to scrape it up and put it in a wheelbarrow. The shovel has a pretty short handle, so I was bending over a lot. And I've found that once you reach middle age, you bend over at your peril.
Outdoors, Inc., was hosting its annual cyclocross race this morning in the Greenbelt Park that runs along the Mississippi above the Hernando DeSoto Bridge. They always shoot video at this event, and I paddled up there hoping they might get some footage of me while they were at it. In the Major League Baseball postseason last month, San Francisco Giants closer Sergio Romo attracted attention by persistently getting his face into TV shots and photos, a practice he calls "Romo-bombing." I guess what I was doing today would be called... what? "Elmo-bombing"?
My back is still hurting, but improving. One thing that hadn't occurred to me when I wrote my last post is that I might have hurt myself doing yard work, of all things, on Thursday. There was a layer of half-composted leaves in the street gutter along one side of the house, and I used a flat-nosed shovel to scrape it up and put it in a wheelbarrow. The shovel has a pretty short handle, so I was bending over a lot. And I've found that once you reach middle age, you bend over at your peril.
Outdoors, Inc., was hosting its annual cyclocross race this morning in the Greenbelt Park that runs along the Mississippi above the Hernando DeSoto Bridge. They always shoot video at this event, and I paddled up there hoping they might get some footage of me while they were at it. In the Major League Baseball postseason last month, San Francisco Giants closer Sergio Romo attracted attention by persistently getting his face into TV shots and photos, a practice he calls "Romo-bombing." I guess what I was doing today would be called... what? "Elmo-bombing"?
Friday, November 9, 2012
Home again; should I start building an ark?
I leave town for a few days and when I get back it seems the whole world has changed. The Mississippi River is above zero on the Memphis gauge for the first time since early June. This morning's level was 2.4 feet above zero, and my dock looked like this:
For comparison, look at the picture I posted here back on the 26th of August, when the river was 9.1 feet below zero.
Mind you, the water is still quite low; I would say a "medium" level is around 12 feet or higher. But it sure did feel high today after the months of near-historic lows we've had.
I paddled for an hour, trying to keep the intensity low. I've been dealing with some aches and pains from last weekend: I strained something in my middle back area on the Cheoah last Saturday, and aggravated it the next day on the Tallulah. And I think I may have a mild virus that's making me feel achy and tired all over. So I hoped some easy paddling would make me feel better. Too early to tell as I write this.
For comparison, look at the picture I posted here back on the 26th of August, when the river was 9.1 feet below zero.
Mind you, the water is still quite low; I would say a "medium" level is around 12 feet or higher. But it sure did feel high today after the months of near-historic lows we've had.
I paddled for an hour, trying to keep the intensity low. I've been dealing with some aches and pains from last weekend: I strained something in my middle back area on the Cheoah last Saturday, and aggravated it the next day on the Tallulah. And I think I may have a mild virus that's making me feel achy and tired all over. So I hoped some easy paddling would make me feel better. Too early to tell as I write this.
Monday, November 5, 2012
Monday photo feature
Travis Trimble paddles a flooded South Sauty Creek near Guntersville, Alabama, in 1994.
Travis now lives in Athens, Georgia, with his wife Mandy and their 21-month-old daughter Olivia. I'm spending a couple of days with them before I head home to Memphis. I'd have loved for Travis to join me on the rivers I paddled over the weekend, but he's not feeling up to paddling right now after a recent bout with the shingles. We're hoping for many happy days on the river in the future.
Another whitewater weekend
I got in my car Friday morning and began to drive east. My day ended in the San-Ran Motel in Robbinsville, North Carolina. The Cheoah River awaited down below Santeetlah Dam.
My plan was to meet Ruthie and Curtis, a couple from Atlanta I had met at the Gauley at the end of September, for a run of the river. But when I got up Saturday morning and walked outside to find a decent cell signal, I found a voice mail from them saying that the roof rack, with boats attached, had blown off their car on Highway 400, and they wouldn't be making it. So I went down to the putin to see who else might welcome my company. I found Ava Carr, a former Memphian whom I had last paddled with in the late 1990s, and I joined her and her two friends.
The Cheoah can be divided into a couple of distinct sections. The first several miles of the run are in a narrow riverbed that feels even narrower because of the vegetation that has grown there during the long periods when the river is dewatered. Since most of my whitewater friends have run the Ocoee River, I typically describe other rivers in terms of the Ocoee: if you take an average piece of the Ocoee, choke it down to about a third of its width, and increase the gradient by a few degrees, you've got this upper part of the Cheoah. Expect to spend most of your time weaving through long series of ledges with numerous rocks and holes sprinkled in.
Then you reach Bear Creek Falls, a drop with several obstructed lines, and the riverbed's character changes. Below Bear Creek the river becomes wider and, more significantly, much more cluttered with big rocks. Suddenly, picking out clean lines becomes more difficult. I have now run the Cheoah three times, and each time I have come off the river with busted-up knuckles from doing low braces off rocks in this section below Bear Creek.
But busted-up knuckles ain't gonna kill nobody. I had a good day of hard work and play on the Cheoah and it was great to see Ava again.
As I headed down the road away from the Cheoah, I raised Ruthie on the phone and learned that they had fixed their roof-rack problem, and would meet me Sunday morning for my very first run of the Tallulah Gorge.
The Tallulah River is located in Rabun County in the northeast corner of Georgia. I had been aware of the river's existence since I was a teenager working at a summer camp up in Brevard, NC, and I had driven right by the dam at the top of the gorge many times while in the area to run the nearby Chattooga River. But since neither the dam nor the gorge is visible from the highway, I had never actually laid eyes on the place.
In fact, the Tallulah (and the Cheoah, too, for that matter) has only recently become known to the greater paddling community. Several scenes of the movie "Deliverance" were shot in Tallulah Gorge in the early 1970s, but the riverbed otherwise lay dewatered until a coalition of paddling organizations began lobbying for scheduled dam realeases during the dam's relicensing process with the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission in the early 1990s. The result is that Georgia Power and Light now realeases water for paddlers during several weekends in April and November. There's an interesting account of a 1993 "exploratory" run in Tallulah Gorge here.
I made camp Saturday evening in Tallulah Gorge State Park on the river-left canyon rim. The next morning I met Ruthie and Curtis in the parking area next to the dam. A gate was open and water was spilling over the dam into the deep gorge below.
We hiked the path that runs beneath U.S. 441 and descended the long staircase into the gorge that was built when recreational releases began some fifteen years ago. I was immediately taken with the incredible beauty of the place and couldn't believe I had zoomed right by it in my car all those years. We put in and immediately had to run one of the trickier rapids in the gorge, Last Step (so called, I suppose, because it's the "last step" of that long staircase). Then we ran Tanner's Boof and found ourselves on the brink of one of the Southeast's most famous rapids, Oceana Falls.
A paddler must make many decisions on a whitewater river, and "to run" vs. "to portage" is one of the most basic. As I stood on the bank and regarded the very impressive rapid that is Oceana, several things were going through my head. Certainly, I was evaluating my ability to make the crux move, which in this case involved putting my boat in just the right spot at the top of the rapid and then simply hanging on for the rest of the drop. I was also thinking about the hole at the bottom and the likelihood that I would be stuck there--not really an issue of personal injury, as there is nothing but a large pool below, but rather of the hassle and demoralization of having to rescue myself and my gear should I come out of my boat. Finally, there was the knowledge that later, whenever I would tell somebody I had run Tallulah Gorge, his or her first question would be, "Did you run Oceana?" I don't like to admit that I care what others think of me as a paddler, but the reality is that I sort of do, and I would bet that most other good paddlers are the same way to some degree.
In the end, I decided to run it. I chose the "safest" line on the far left (the choice of most other boaters on the river), and hit the spot I wanted to hit at the top. The rest of the run went by so fast that it's all a blur in my memory. At the bottom I was upside down, but not stuck in the hole, and after rolling up I was done with this particular milestone.
Oceana Falls was by far the part of Tallulah Gorge that I had heard the most about, but as we continued on downriver, I discovered that there was much more excitement in store. Most of the run consists of read-as-you-go whitewater that is really, really fun. I did have one scary moment at the bottom of a rapid known as "Tat": without paying attention to what Ruthie and Curtis were doing, I went ahead and ran the drop on the far left side, and found myself being sucked into an undercut rock at the bottom. My boat got flipped, and before I could even attempt to roll I was out of it. As I swam underwater for some five seconds, I figured I was in a dire situation until I saw daylight above me. When I broke the surface, I was well downstream of the rock and my boat was floating upright a few feet away. It was the coziest I had ever gotten with an undercut rock and I don't care ever to repeat the experience if I can help it.
The Tallulah Gorge run ends the same way its neighbor, the Chattooga, ends: with a paddle out on Lake Tugaloo. It was good to get back together with Ruthie and Curtis and I hope to do so again before long. And it was good to spend some more of this fall in the mountains. I love my home in the lower Mississippi basin, but a change of scenery can recharge one's spirit.
My plan was to meet Ruthie and Curtis, a couple from Atlanta I had met at the Gauley at the end of September, for a run of the river. But when I got up Saturday morning and walked outside to find a decent cell signal, I found a voice mail from them saying that the roof rack, with boats attached, had blown off their car on Highway 400, and they wouldn't be making it. So I went down to the putin to see who else might welcome my company. I found Ava Carr, a former Memphian whom I had last paddled with in the late 1990s, and I joined her and her two friends.
The Cheoah can be divided into a couple of distinct sections. The first several miles of the run are in a narrow riverbed that feels even narrower because of the vegetation that has grown there during the long periods when the river is dewatered. Since most of my whitewater friends have run the Ocoee River, I typically describe other rivers in terms of the Ocoee: if you take an average piece of the Ocoee, choke it down to about a third of its width, and increase the gradient by a few degrees, you've got this upper part of the Cheoah. Expect to spend most of your time weaving through long series of ledges with numerous rocks and holes sprinkled in.
Then you reach Bear Creek Falls, a drop with several obstructed lines, and the riverbed's character changes. Below Bear Creek the river becomes wider and, more significantly, much more cluttered with big rocks. Suddenly, picking out clean lines becomes more difficult. I have now run the Cheoah three times, and each time I have come off the river with busted-up knuckles from doing low braces off rocks in this section below Bear Creek.
But busted-up knuckles ain't gonna kill nobody. I had a good day of hard work and play on the Cheoah and it was great to see Ava again.
As I headed down the road away from the Cheoah, I raised Ruthie on the phone and learned that they had fixed their roof-rack problem, and would meet me Sunday morning for my very first run of the Tallulah Gorge.
The Tallulah River is located in Rabun County in the northeast corner of Georgia. I had been aware of the river's existence since I was a teenager working at a summer camp up in Brevard, NC, and I had driven right by the dam at the top of the gorge many times while in the area to run the nearby Chattooga River. But since neither the dam nor the gorge is visible from the highway, I had never actually laid eyes on the place.
In fact, the Tallulah (and the Cheoah, too, for that matter) has only recently become known to the greater paddling community. Several scenes of the movie "Deliverance" were shot in Tallulah Gorge in the early 1970s, but the riverbed otherwise lay dewatered until a coalition of paddling organizations began lobbying for scheduled dam realeases during the dam's relicensing process with the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission in the early 1990s. The result is that Georgia Power and Light now realeases water for paddlers during several weekends in April and November. There's an interesting account of a 1993 "exploratory" run in Tallulah Gorge here.
I made camp Saturday evening in Tallulah Gorge State Park on the river-left canyon rim. The next morning I met Ruthie and Curtis in the parking area next to the dam. A gate was open and water was spilling over the dam into the deep gorge below.
We hiked the path that runs beneath U.S. 441 and descended the long staircase into the gorge that was built when recreational releases began some fifteen years ago. I was immediately taken with the incredible beauty of the place and couldn't believe I had zoomed right by it in my car all those years. We put in and immediately had to run one of the trickier rapids in the gorge, Last Step (so called, I suppose, because it's the "last step" of that long staircase). Then we ran Tanner's Boof and found ourselves on the brink of one of the Southeast's most famous rapids, Oceana Falls.
A paddler must make many decisions on a whitewater river, and "to run" vs. "to portage" is one of the most basic. As I stood on the bank and regarded the very impressive rapid that is Oceana, several things were going through my head. Certainly, I was evaluating my ability to make the crux move, which in this case involved putting my boat in just the right spot at the top of the rapid and then simply hanging on for the rest of the drop. I was also thinking about the hole at the bottom and the likelihood that I would be stuck there--not really an issue of personal injury, as there is nothing but a large pool below, but rather of the hassle and demoralization of having to rescue myself and my gear should I come out of my boat. Finally, there was the knowledge that later, whenever I would tell somebody I had run Tallulah Gorge, his or her first question would be, "Did you run Oceana?" I don't like to admit that I care what others think of me as a paddler, but the reality is that I sort of do, and I would bet that most other good paddlers are the same way to some degree.
In the end, I decided to run it. I chose the "safest" line on the far left (the choice of most other boaters on the river), and hit the spot I wanted to hit at the top. The rest of the run went by so fast that it's all a blur in my memory. At the bottom I was upside down, but not stuck in the hole, and after rolling up I was done with this particular milestone.
Oceana Falls was by far the part of Tallulah Gorge that I had heard the most about, but as we continued on downriver, I discovered that there was much more excitement in store. Most of the run consists of read-as-you-go whitewater that is really, really fun. I did have one scary moment at the bottom of a rapid known as "Tat": without paying attention to what Ruthie and Curtis were doing, I went ahead and ran the drop on the far left side, and found myself being sucked into an undercut rock at the bottom. My boat got flipped, and before I could even attempt to roll I was out of it. As I swam underwater for some five seconds, I figured I was in a dire situation until I saw daylight above me. When I broke the surface, I was well downstream of the rock and my boat was floating upright a few feet away. It was the coziest I had ever gotten with an undercut rock and I don't care ever to repeat the experience if I can help it.
The Tallulah Gorge run ends the same way its neighbor, the Chattooga, ends: with a paddle out on Lake Tugaloo. It was good to get back together with Ruthie and Curtis and I hope to do so again before long. And it was good to spend some more of this fall in the mountains. I love my home in the lower Mississippi basin, but a change of scenery can recharge one's spirit.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Re-starting... again
I finally got back in the boat after being out of it for nine days. There were just too many things going on off the river.
I paddled for an hour and felt pretty good. The weather is getting warmer now after a few chilly, windy days--a big front came through last Friday that was probably part of that system that collided with Hurricane Sandy to create the big "Frankenstorm."
All kinds of wildlife were hanging out just above the Hernando DeSoto Bridge near the Arkansas side. I saw a beaver, and then a big flock of migrating waterfowl that didn't let me get close enough for a good look. From a distance they looked like baby ducklings, but I wouldn't think it's the right time of year for that.
I paddled for an hour and felt pretty good. The weather is getting warmer now after a few chilly, windy days--a big front came through last Friday that was probably part of that system that collided with Hurricane Sandy to create the big "Frankenstorm."
All kinds of wildlife were hanging out just above the Hernando DeSoto Bridge near the Arkansas side. I saw a beaver, and then a big flock of migrating waterfowl that didn't let me get close enough for a good look. From a distance they looked like baby ducklings, but I wouldn't think it's the right time of year for that.
Monday, October 29, 2012
Monday photo feature
I'll be making my first trip down the Tallulah next Sunday. I've heard many stories of the Oceana experience, and I guess I'll finally learn what all the fuss is about.
Monday, October 22, 2012
Monday photo feature
Sunday, October 21, 2012
Offseason thoughts
This weekend I put in a pair of 60-minute sessions on the downtown riverfront. I drove down there yesterday but rode my bike today. It's been a classic fall weekend, and yesterday in particular was picture-perfect: sunny, low 70s, no wind.
Here in my offseason I'm paddling just a couple of times a week. But I'm not that worried about getting too far out of shape because I always seem to be doing something. It helps that my line of work doesn't have me sitting at a desk all day long. As a woodworker, I'm constantly moving logs and lumber around, and sawing, and planing, and carving, and chopping.
Different people do different things during the competitive offseason. Some people feel no need to take a break from paddling at all, and just train throughout the year. Others could use some sort of mental break from the boat, and seek out other physical activities: running, bike riding, skiing, basketball... there's really no wrong thing to do as long as you keep your body moving.
I'm trying to catch up on some whitewater paddling during this offseason--I took a trip several weeks ago and hope to take another in a couple of weeks. But around this time every year, I pick up the pace with my woodworking. Last weekend, for instance, I demonstrated bowl carving at a crafts fair here in town, using an axe, an adze, a saw, and numerous chisels and gouges, and at the end of each day I felt just as tired as if I'd spent the day lifting weights.
Speaking of weightlifting: in William T. Endicott's The Barton Mold, Greg Barton comments on the importance of using precise technique in the weight room: "I feel that if you start cheating, really jerking around a lot, there are two things that happen. One is you're starting to pull into play muscles other than the one you are targeting. Secondly, what happens when you get into the boat? Are you going to start jerking around there, too? Start pulling all over the place? I think some of that carries over. If you use strict technique in the weight room, you're thinking in that mode and it's a little easier to transfer that into the boat."
Just like paddling and weightlifting, woodworking is a technical endeavor. There's a right way to hold and move each tool to get the most from the tool's design in concert with the power of your body. Having taken courses taught by Carl Swensson, a staunch proponent of good technique, this summer and last summer, I've been thinking a lot about how I use my tools. It's plenty of exercise, and I hope it will carry over into my paddling in the next year.
Here in my offseason I'm paddling just a couple of times a week. But I'm not that worried about getting too far out of shape because I always seem to be doing something. It helps that my line of work doesn't have me sitting at a desk all day long. As a woodworker, I'm constantly moving logs and lumber around, and sawing, and planing, and carving, and chopping.
Different people do different things during the competitive offseason. Some people feel no need to take a break from paddling at all, and just train throughout the year. Others could use some sort of mental break from the boat, and seek out other physical activities: running, bike riding, skiing, basketball... there's really no wrong thing to do as long as you keep your body moving.
I'm trying to catch up on some whitewater paddling during this offseason--I took a trip several weeks ago and hope to take another in a couple of weeks. But around this time every year, I pick up the pace with my woodworking. Last weekend, for instance, I demonstrated bowl carving at a crafts fair here in town, using an axe, an adze, a saw, and numerous chisels and gouges, and at the end of each day I felt just as tired as if I'd spent the day lifting weights.
Speaking of weightlifting: in William T. Endicott's The Barton Mold, Greg Barton comments on the importance of using precise technique in the weight room: "I feel that if you start cheating, really jerking around a lot, there are two things that happen. One is you're starting to pull into play muscles other than the one you are targeting. Secondly, what happens when you get into the boat? Are you going to start jerking around there, too? Start pulling all over the place? I think some of that carries over. If you use strict technique in the weight room, you're thinking in that mode and it's a little easier to transfer that into the boat."
Just like paddling and weightlifting, woodworking is a technical endeavor. There's a right way to hold and move each tool to get the most from the tool's design in concert with the power of your body. Having taken courses taught by Carl Swensson, a staunch proponent of good technique, this summer and last summer, I've been thinking a lot about how I use my tools. It's plenty of exercise, and I hope it will carry over into my paddling in the next year.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
The low water continues
I paddled my surf ski today for the first time in about three weeks. Part of that time off was spent paddling up at the Gauley, and part was spent doing stuff having nothing to do with paddling. Yes, I do have a life away from the sport.
The Mississippi River has been below zero on the Memphis gauge for as long a period as I can remember. It dipped below zero around the eighth of June, and about a week later it was at -1.7 feet for the Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race. It hovered up and down for the next few weeks before dropping precipitously in late August, bottoming out at -9.8 feet on September 1. After that it came up for a while, holding steady around -6 feet, but now it's dropping again and was at -9.3 feet when I paddled this morning. For now it doesn't appear that it will threaten the record low of -10.7 feet from July of 1988, however. The current forecast has it rising to around -8 feet by the end of the week.
When the water is this low, I have to proceed with caution as I paddle upriver along the Tennessee bank. The bank is lined with revetment, a matrix of concrete slabs placed there by the Corps of Engineers to prevent the river from eroding its banks, and some of this revetment has buckled after decades underwater, getting hammered by the river's currents. I lost my rudder once last year when it hit a piece of concrete that was sticking up near the surface of the water in an unlikely place.
The Mississippi River has been below zero on the Memphis gauge for as long a period as I can remember. It dipped below zero around the eighth of June, and about a week later it was at -1.7 feet for the Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race. It hovered up and down for the next few weeks before dropping precipitously in late August, bottoming out at -9.8 feet on September 1. After that it came up for a while, holding steady around -6 feet, but now it's dropping again and was at -9.3 feet when I paddled this morning. For now it doesn't appear that it will threaten the record low of -10.7 feet from July of 1988, however. The current forecast has it rising to around -8 feet by the end of the week.
When the water is this low, I have to proceed with caution as I paddle upriver along the Tennessee bank. The bank is lined with revetment, a matrix of concrete slabs placed there by the Corps of Engineers to prevent the river from eroding its banks, and some of this revetment has buckled after decades underwater, getting hammered by the river's currents. I lost my rudder once last year when it hit a piece of concrete that was sticking up near the surface of the water in an unlikely place.
Returning soon
I think the Internet problems at our house are fixed at last.
Soon, I hope to get the gears grinding back to life here at this blog. I've been busy with a lot of non-paddling activities lately, so that's part of the problem along with the broken connection. I thank all my loyal readers for their patience.
Here's one piece of good news: that kayaker I mentioned in my last post has resumed his journey down the Mississippi, destined for Costa Rica. The local TV news covered it here.
Soon, I hope to get the gears grinding back to life here at this blog. I've been busy with a lot of non-paddling activities lately, so that's part of the problem along with the broken connection. I thank all my loyal readers for their patience.
Here's one piece of good news: that kayaker I mentioned in my last post has resumed his journey down the Mississippi, destined for Costa Rica. The local TV news covered it here.
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Please stand by
I apologize to those of you who have been looking here for new posts. We've been having a lengthy saga of Internet connectivity problems at our house and my online time has been limited to whenever I can drop by my mom's house and use her computer.
I'll have more to say about this when I get back online for real, but here in Memphis this week we've seen a sad story reach a happy ending. Best of luck to Mr. Stewart as he continues on to Costa Rica.
I'll have more to say about this when I get back online for real, but here in Memphis this week we've seen a sad story reach a happy ending. Best of luck to Mr. Stewart as he continues on to Costa Rica.
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Monday photo feature
Because of technical difficulties (hint: I'm about to drop our wireless router on the floor and stomp on it), I was not able to post this week's "Monday photo feature" on Monday. I apologize to those of you who kept checking this site for it yesterday.
Here's another Gauley River photo in honor of my trip up there this past weekend. This one also was taken during my first trip there in 1994. From left to right, the paddlers are Jason Salomon, Richard Carson, Greg Raymond, and Tony Hickey. The location is Five Boat Hole on the lower Gauley. Good times.
Gauley-inspired thoughts
My visit to the Gauley River continued with runs of the upper section on Saturday and Sunday. I felt pretty good in my boat, nailing some moves and blowing some others, and while I did nothing to distinguish myself as a hero I worked the river hard and came away satisfied.
Here's an assortment of observations from my weekend:
There is value in meeting new people on the river. I went up there by myself (Martha was with me, of course, but she was not paddling), and had no idea whom I was going to paddle with. But I knew there would be other paddlers there during these annual fall releases, and as it turned out I paddled with a different group of nice, interesting people each day.
The initial introduction is the worst part of this process. I'm sort of a shy guy anyway, and walking up to a group of strangers and asking if I can tag along with them never fails to feel awkward. Some people are totally amenable ("Sure, man! The more the merrier!") while others are a little wary. The situation I hate most is being asked to recite a list of rivers I've run to prove my worthiness of inclusion.
But most of the time things work out just fine, and I think I get a lot of benefit from paddling with lots of different people and getting their insights on skills, techniques, methods of running a rapid, and so on. Planning a trip with a group of friends from your hometown provides more security as far as knowing what will happen throughout the weekend, but always paddling with the same people deprives a person of some great learning opportunities.
I don't recommend Battle Run Campground. Battle Run Campground is the Corps of Engineers facility on Summersville Lake near the dam and the upper Gauley putin. I had camped there on two or three previous visits to the Gauley, and considered it adequate, but I developed a dislike for the place on this trip. The bath house is sort of grungy, with hot water that was mostly, but not completely, hot. And no pets were allowed. In short, the Corps is happy to pour some concrete and lay in a little plumbing (that's what engineers are good at, after all), but it doesn't seem all that concerned about the quality of its guests' experiences.
If I return to the Gauley with Martha, we'll probably just stay in a motel. Martha's not a fan of camping in anything but dry, balmy weather. If I go by myself, I'll probably try to get into one of the campsites right next to the putin, which are more spartan than Battle Run, but free.
Central West Virginia is a beautiful but not particularly cosmopolitan area. My dining experience on past visits to the Gauley consisted mainly of fast food along the U.S. 19 bypass strip near Summersville. With my wife along this time, I hoped to find something nicer. We found a handful of nice restaurants in Fayetteville, as well as a rather good coffee shop in downtown Summersville (away from the bypass).
But finding good suppers was only part of our problem. While I was on the river each day, Martha needed something to do. And because it was raining much of the weekend, indoor activities were preferable. If we had been in New York City there would have been no problem at all, for art museums and funky boutique shops are just the thing for Martha. But in the greater Summersville-Fayetteville area such indoor culture is a little hard to come by. Martha spent the rainiest day holed up in the Nicholas County library, reading and using the Internet and staring out the window. We later found a cafe with wi-fi and a nice atmosphere, and she spent some time there.
When we finally got some nice sunny weather, she went down to Fayette Station, deep in the New River Gorge beneath the iconic bridge, and she enjoyed making some sketches down there. But the reality is that if you're not there for paddling or other rugged outdoor adventures, you run out of things to do fast in the wilds of West Virginia.
The upper Gauley has choices for a takeout. The first time I ran the upper Gauley, back in 1994, my group used the Panther Creek takeout, which involved carrying our boats up the most god-awful trail I have ever seen. My friends told me that taking out there saved us from paddling two miles of "flatwater" down to Woods Ferry, where one can drive a vehicle right down to the river. I remember thinking that I would rather paddle fifty miles of flatwater than carry my boat up an endless 50-degree incline.
By my next visit to the Gauley two or three years later, the American Whitewater Affiliation had negotiated access for paddlers to a road that reaches the river near the Panther Creek trail. During the busy weekends of the fall release season paddlers were required to park their cars up the mountain in the same parking area they had always used, but now they could pay a few bucks to throw their boats in the back of a Ryder truck and ride a shuttle van up to the parking area. This was much better than hiking that trail.
On this trip, the groups I hooked up with on Saturday and Sunday happened to be using the Woods Ferry takeout, so I would finally learn just how miserable this two miles of flatwater really was. What I found was that it isn't flatwater at all. The stretch consists of four or five sets of Class III rapids, a couple of which have very nice surfing waves. And the last rapid provides some excitement in the form of monster holes you must avoid. When I reached Woods Ferry, where the car was waiting a short walk from the river, I wondered why people have ever used the Panther Creek takeout, shuttle truck or no shuttle truck.
All told, I had a great time reacquainting myself with my whitewater boat. I'd like to incorporate more of this sort of thing into my offseasons from racing.
Here's an assortment of observations from my weekend:
There is value in meeting new people on the river. I went up there by myself (Martha was with me, of course, but she was not paddling), and had no idea whom I was going to paddle with. But I knew there would be other paddlers there during these annual fall releases, and as it turned out I paddled with a different group of nice, interesting people each day.
The initial introduction is the worst part of this process. I'm sort of a shy guy anyway, and walking up to a group of strangers and asking if I can tag along with them never fails to feel awkward. Some people are totally amenable ("Sure, man! The more the merrier!") while others are a little wary. The situation I hate most is being asked to recite a list of rivers I've run to prove my worthiness of inclusion.
But most of the time things work out just fine, and I think I get a lot of benefit from paddling with lots of different people and getting their insights on skills, techniques, methods of running a rapid, and so on. Planning a trip with a group of friends from your hometown provides more security as far as knowing what will happen throughout the weekend, but always paddling with the same people deprives a person of some great learning opportunities.
I don't recommend Battle Run Campground. Battle Run Campground is the Corps of Engineers facility on Summersville Lake near the dam and the upper Gauley putin. I had camped there on two or three previous visits to the Gauley, and considered it adequate, but I developed a dislike for the place on this trip. The bath house is sort of grungy, with hot water that was mostly, but not completely, hot. And no pets were allowed. In short, the Corps is happy to pour some concrete and lay in a little plumbing (that's what engineers are good at, after all), but it doesn't seem all that concerned about the quality of its guests' experiences.
If I return to the Gauley with Martha, we'll probably just stay in a motel. Martha's not a fan of camping in anything but dry, balmy weather. If I go by myself, I'll probably try to get into one of the campsites right next to the putin, which are more spartan than Battle Run, but free.
Central West Virginia is a beautiful but not particularly cosmopolitan area. My dining experience on past visits to the Gauley consisted mainly of fast food along the U.S. 19 bypass strip near Summersville. With my wife along this time, I hoped to find something nicer. We found a handful of nice restaurants in Fayetteville, as well as a rather good coffee shop in downtown Summersville (away from the bypass).
But finding good suppers was only part of our problem. While I was on the river each day, Martha needed something to do. And because it was raining much of the weekend, indoor activities were preferable. If we had been in New York City there would have been no problem at all, for art museums and funky boutique shops are just the thing for Martha. But in the greater Summersville-Fayetteville area such indoor culture is a little hard to come by. Martha spent the rainiest day holed up in the Nicholas County library, reading and using the Internet and staring out the window. We later found a cafe with wi-fi and a nice atmosphere, and she spent some time there.
When we finally got some nice sunny weather, she went down to Fayette Station, deep in the New River Gorge beneath the iconic bridge, and she enjoyed making some sketches down there. But the reality is that if you're not there for paddling or other rugged outdoor adventures, you run out of things to do fast in the wilds of West Virginia.
The upper Gauley has choices for a takeout. The first time I ran the upper Gauley, back in 1994, my group used the Panther Creek takeout, which involved carrying our boats up the most god-awful trail I have ever seen. My friends told me that taking out there saved us from paddling two miles of "flatwater" down to Woods Ferry, where one can drive a vehicle right down to the river. I remember thinking that I would rather paddle fifty miles of flatwater than carry my boat up an endless 50-degree incline.
By my next visit to the Gauley two or three years later, the American Whitewater Affiliation had negotiated access for paddlers to a road that reaches the river near the Panther Creek trail. During the busy weekends of the fall release season paddlers were required to park their cars up the mountain in the same parking area they had always used, but now they could pay a few bucks to throw their boats in the back of a Ryder truck and ride a shuttle van up to the parking area. This was much better than hiking that trail.
On this trip, the groups I hooked up with on Saturday and Sunday happened to be using the Woods Ferry takeout, so I would finally learn just how miserable this two miles of flatwater really was. What I found was that it isn't flatwater at all. The stretch consists of four or five sets of Class III rapids, a couple of which have very nice surfing waves. And the last rapid provides some excitement in the form of monster holes you must avoid. When I reached Woods Ferry, where the car was waiting a short walk from the river, I wondered why people have ever used the Panther Creek takeout, shuttle truck or no shuttle truck.
* * *
All told, I had a great time reacquainting myself with my whitewater boat. I'd like to incorporate more of this sort of thing into my offseasons from racing.
Friday, September 28, 2012
Gaw-lee! That's some big water!
Martha and I woke up in a downpour at Battle Run Campground on Summersville Lake. I threw together some breakfast and coffee as fast as I could, and then we drove down to the upper Gauley River putin just below Summersville Dam.
I immediately horned in on a solitary dude named Brian and convinced him to let me paddle with him. Martha helped shuttle his car to the takeout, and when we returned to the putin his friends Jay and Shannon had arrived to give us a foursome. We were ready to paddle.
I wasn't exactly feeling "in the zone" today--my lack of recent whitewater paddling combined with my vague memory of the river made me a little tentative, and I let lots of opportunities to do cool stuff pass me by. But that's okay. I've got two more days to work on it.
The rain continued all day, but it's supposed to move out overnight tonight. I'm generally fine on the river in the rain, but it'll be easier for Martha to find things to do if the weather is nice.
I immediately horned in on a solitary dude named Brian and convinced him to let me paddle with him. Martha helped shuttle his car to the takeout, and when we returned to the putin his friends Jay and Shannon had arrived to give us a foursome. We were ready to paddle.
I wasn't exactly feeling "in the zone" today--my lack of recent whitewater paddling combined with my vague memory of the river made me a little tentative, and I let lots of opportunities to do cool stuff pass me by. But that's okay. I've got two more days to work on it.
The rain continued all day, but it's supposed to move out overnight tonight. I'm generally fine on the river in the rain, but it'll be easier for Martha to find things to do if the weather is nice.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Playing in double-A, trying to get back to triple-A
Martha and I are on the road to West Virginia. We spent last night in the old part of Marion, Virginia.
Yesterday we swung by the Ocoee River in southeast Tennessee, because I wanted to run an easy, familiar river and make sure I still know what I'm doing in a whitewater boat. What I discovered is that my river-running skill should be just fine for getting down the Gauley in one piece, but I'm not very sharp on the more advanced moves. My success rate on some of the moves I've been making for years on the Ocoee was only fifty percent or so. Yesterday I approached such moves from the Carl Swensson perspective: if I failed to execute a move, I didn't just keep trying until I was blue in the face, but rather asked myself what I could do differently that might improve my chances for success.
Yesterday we swung by the Ocoee River in southeast Tennessee, because I wanted to run an easy, familiar river and make sure I still know what I'm doing in a whitewater boat. What I discovered is that my river-running skill should be just fine for getting down the Gauley in one piece, but I'm not very sharp on the more advanced moves. My success rate on some of the moves I've been making for years on the Ocoee was only fifty percent or so. Yesterday I approached such moves from the Carl Swensson perspective: if I failed to execute a move, I didn't just keep trying until I was blue in the face, but rather asked myself what I could do differently that might improve my chances for success.
Monday, September 24, 2012
Monday photo feature
I've been back to the Gauley maybe four or five times since then, but it's been about a decade since my last visit. It's time to get back there, and that's what I plan to do this coming weekend. Martha and I will leave tomorrow and spend a day at the Ocoee River, where I'll make sure I remember how to paddle my whitewater boat, and then we'll move on up to West Virginia for paddling on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.
I can never look at this photo without some sadness, for Richard died in 1999 on the North Fork of the Payette River in Idaho. His fate is a reminder for me to exercise caution and good judgement whenever I'm on the river. At the same time, I believe that the most dangerous thing I'll do this week is not the paddling but driving my car to get there.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Dragon boats in Memphis
I had a couple of good sessions on the water this weekend. The Mississippi is very low but it appears that water is on its way from higher places. The Tennessee and Ohio drainages apparently have gotten some rain.
Yesterday the second annual dragon boat races were underway as I paddled out of the harbor. I participated last year as a member of the Outdoors, Inc., team, but since that company did not enter a team this year I sat this one out. It looked like everybody was having a swell time.
Yesterday the second annual dragon boat races were underway as I paddled out of the harbor. I participated last year as a member of the Outdoors, Inc., team, but since that company did not enter a team this year I sat this one out. It looked like everybody was having a swell time.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Low on power and water
A big front came through late Monday and when Joe and I spent an hour paddling in the harbor yesterday morning, it was noticeably cooler with a stiff north wind.
I'm still learning all the quirks of my Go Pro camera. Using it for the first time after charging it a few days earlier, I had it quit on me after only a couple of minutes because the battery was dead. Apparently those things don't hold their charge very long.
It was a shame, because in several spots in the harbor the Asian carp were really jumping, and that would have made for some fun footage. But I reckon I'll have more chances to film some flying fish.
I think the places where the fish were jumping were particularly shallow. We got a bump in the water level after Hurricane Isaac, but now the river is dropping out of sight again. Yesterday's level was -9.0 feet on the Memphis gauge.
I'm still learning all the quirks of my Go Pro camera. Using it for the first time after charging it a few days earlier, I had it quit on me after only a couple of minutes because the battery was dead. Apparently those things don't hold their charge very long.
It was a shame, because in several spots in the harbor the Asian carp were really jumping, and that would have made for some fun footage. But I reckon I'll have more chances to film some flying fish.
I think the places where the fish were jumping were particularly shallow. We got a bump in the water level after Hurricane Isaac, but now the river is dropping out of sight again. Yesterday's level was -9.0 feet on the Memphis gauge.
Monday, September 17, 2012
Monday photo feature
For the moment, the areas covered by these volunteers look significantly better. But I'm afraid more such events will be necessary in the future.
Catching up
Once again I'm sorry for the dropoff in posting lately. A whole lot of stuff has been going on outside my boat. These days I'm trying to get on the water about three times a week, during which I work on my form and technique but mostly just enjoy myself.
On Thursday I arrived at the marina at the same time as my friend Joe Royer, and we paddled together up to the mouth of the Wolf and back. Joe and I get together for workouts quite a bit during the spring race season, but our schedules tend to diverge during other parts of the year. It was fun to catch up on things with him. I strongly believe that sessions like this, where you're paddling a nice steady pace that isn't too intense to allow conversation with a companion, are the most valuable. In other words, if you don't have much time to train, give this sort of session priority over intense intervals and stuff like that. In addition to smoothing out your stroke, you're building your aerobic system with new capillary beds in your paddling muscles to facilitate blood flow there. Distance runners call this an "LSD" (long steady distance) session, and it's the bread and butter of their training.
Regular readers of this blog have seen me mention the litter problem on the Memphis riverfront. In the last couple of years a group of honor students at the University of Memphis has teamed up with the national group Living Lands and Waters to tackle the considerable litter problem in McKellar Lake, a slackwater harbor downriver from downtown Memphis. This summer Joe approached this group about doing a similar event in Wolf River Harbor, the slackwater harbor right at downtown Memphis where he and I and other people keep our boats. The resulting event took place this past Saturday, sponsored by Joe's company, Outdoors, Inc.
Groups from all over town, including groups of honor students from the U of M and Christian Brothers University, showed up to help out. While volunteers spread out along the banks between Harbortown Marina and the harbor's mouth to address the huge quantities of trash there, I paddled my boat up and down the harbor in search of floating litter, which I picked up and ferried to the bank where a volunteer could put it in his bag.
Yesterday morning I went back downtown to paddle with Joe and his wife, Carol Lee. We admired the results of the cleanup effort: the banks looked significantly better and should remain so for the duration of this low-water period. Of course, eventually the water will rise again, and when it drops after that a whole batch of new litter will be deposited. And as we paddled along yesterday, we noticed quite a bit of floating trash that had moved in to replace what I had plucked from the water. So these cleanup events are not a permanent solution to the problem. I think they are important because they demonstrate that many people value clean water in this community, but the only thing that will rid us of the problem for good is an attitudinal change throughout our society.
On Thursday I arrived at the marina at the same time as my friend Joe Royer, and we paddled together up to the mouth of the Wolf and back. Joe and I get together for workouts quite a bit during the spring race season, but our schedules tend to diverge during other parts of the year. It was fun to catch up on things with him. I strongly believe that sessions like this, where you're paddling a nice steady pace that isn't too intense to allow conversation with a companion, are the most valuable. In other words, if you don't have much time to train, give this sort of session priority over intense intervals and stuff like that. In addition to smoothing out your stroke, you're building your aerobic system with new capillary beds in your paddling muscles to facilitate blood flow there. Distance runners call this an "LSD" (long steady distance) session, and it's the bread and butter of their training.
Regular readers of this blog have seen me mention the litter problem on the Memphis riverfront. In the last couple of years a group of honor students at the University of Memphis has teamed up with the national group Living Lands and Waters to tackle the considerable litter problem in McKellar Lake, a slackwater harbor downriver from downtown Memphis. This summer Joe approached this group about doing a similar event in Wolf River Harbor, the slackwater harbor right at downtown Memphis where he and I and other people keep our boats. The resulting event took place this past Saturday, sponsored by Joe's company, Outdoors, Inc.
Groups from all over town, including groups of honor students from the U of M and Christian Brothers University, showed up to help out. While volunteers spread out along the banks between Harbortown Marina and the harbor's mouth to address the huge quantities of trash there, I paddled my boat up and down the harbor in search of floating litter, which I picked up and ferried to the bank where a volunteer could put it in his bag.
Yesterday morning I went back downtown to paddle with Joe and his wife, Carol Lee. We admired the results of the cleanup effort: the banks looked significantly better and should remain so for the duration of this low-water period. Of course, eventually the water will rise again, and when it drops after that a whole batch of new litter will be deposited. And as we paddled along yesterday, we noticed quite a bit of floating trash that had moved in to replace what I had plucked from the water. So these cleanup events are not a permanent solution to the problem. I think they are important because they demonstrate that many people value clean water in this community, but the only thing that will rid us of the problem for good is an attitudinal change throughout our society.
Friday, September 7, 2012
More Go Pro fun
I paddled with Meghan this morning, and tried out the head strap that came with my Go Pro camera. It's quite comfortable and works great as long as you don't mind looking ridiculous. The best thing about it is the camera is always in reach and you have immediate control over what you're shooting. The downside is it's hard to keep your head still enough to get a nice steady shot.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Summer's still breathing its fire
We're having the worst wave of hot weather since that brutal stretch we had back in July. Yesterday's high was 99 degrees with a heat index up around 105 or so, and as I rode my bike down to the river this morning, I could tell today would be similar. I felt fully immersed in lower Mississippi swelter as I walked my bike down the ramp to the marina.
I did the 60-minute session that's been standard for me lately. I played around some more with my Go Pro camera, too.
The last fifteen minutes or so were tough as I paddled up the harbor back to the marina. The breeze was at my back and the sun beat down relentlessly. By the time I got home, I was soaked and worn out, and all I wanted to do was dry off and take a nap.
This evening our iconic Memphis weatherman Dave Brown confirmed what I already knew: it was darn hot today. 98 degrees was the high. Relief is on the way, however: a front is due through here tomorrow night (possibly with some violent thunderstorms), and then the high on Saturday is supposed to be in the high 70s. I am so ready.
I did the 60-minute session that's been standard for me lately. I played around some more with my Go Pro camera, too.
The last fifteen minutes or so were tough as I paddled up the harbor back to the marina. The breeze was at my back and the sun beat down relentlessly. By the time I got home, I was soaked and worn out, and all I wanted to do was dry off and take a nap.
This evening our iconic Memphis weatherman Dave Brown confirmed what I already knew: it was darn hot today. 98 degrees was the high. Relief is on the way, however: a front is due through here tomorrow night (possibly with some violent thunderstorms), and then the high on Saturday is supposed to be in the high 70s. I am so ready.
Monday, September 3, 2012
Going pro
I think the remnants of Hurricane Isaac have moved on from the Memphis area. But then, I thought that yesterday too, and then around suppertime a gigantic thundershower dumped nearly two inches of rain here in just a half hour or so. Martha and I were out at the time, and we had to negotiate several flooded streets on our way home.
Down on the riverfront this morning it was bright and sunny, but it was the usual story after a heavy rain: the harbor was teeming with litter that had been flushed from the storm drains. I picked up enough trash to fill the milk crate that's mounted on the back of my bike, but that represented a tiny fraction of a percent of what was floating down there.
It's easy to get mad at the litter bugs among us--if they didn't litter, after all, we wouldn't have trash in the harbor or anywhere else it shouldn't be--but the real problem is that we as a society have decided it's okay to use something once and then throw it away, and I think only a shift away from that attitude will make a real difference.
On a happier note, I spent some time today playing around with the Go Pro camera that Martha gave me for my birthday last week. I mounted it on my bike handlebars and filmed the ride down to the river, and then stuck it on the back deck of my boat for my paddling session.
I got some interesting footage, I guess, but don't look for me to post it anytime soon. There's already too much footage on You Tube and Vimeo and similar sites of people paddling from the point of view of their bow or stern decks. What I really want to do is collect a bunch of footage over a few years, and then edit it down into an interesting short film that somebody might actually enjoy watching.
Down on the riverfront this morning it was bright and sunny, but it was the usual story after a heavy rain: the harbor was teeming with litter that had been flushed from the storm drains. I picked up enough trash to fill the milk crate that's mounted on the back of my bike, but that represented a tiny fraction of a percent of what was floating down there.
It's easy to get mad at the litter bugs among us--if they didn't litter, after all, we wouldn't have trash in the harbor or anywhere else it shouldn't be--but the real problem is that we as a society have decided it's okay to use something once and then throw it away, and I think only a shift away from that attitude will make a real difference.
On a happier note, I spent some time today playing around with the Go Pro camera that Martha gave me for my birthday last week. I mounted it on my bike handlebars and filmed the ride down to the river, and then stuck it on the back deck of my boat for my paddling session.
I got some interesting footage, I guess, but don't look for me to post it anytime soon. There's already too much footage on You Tube and Vimeo and similar sites of people paddling from the point of view of their bow or stern decks. What I really want to do is collect a bunch of footage over a few years, and then edit it down into an interesting short film that somebody might actually enjoy watching.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Record low averted for the moment
Yesterday I paddled for 60 minutes on a river that registered -9.8 feet on the Memphis gauge. That's within a foot of the record low of -10.7 feet, but it looks like we won't be breaking that for at least the next week, as the forecast has the river rising at least two feet in the next few days.
The remnants of Hurricane Isaac apparently have dropped enough precipitation in the Tennessee and Ohio valleys to send some water down here to Memphis. We have gotten relatively little rain here at Memphis, but rain here does not affect the Mississippi's level at Memphis. Nor does rain in Arkansas and southern Missouri, because those watersheds drain into the St. Francis, White, and Arkansas Rivers, which enter the Mississippi downstream of Memphis, and the Red River, which feeds the Atchafalaya.
To make the Mississippi rise at Memphis, rain must fall in the Tennessee valley, the Midwest, and the upper Great Plains. That's where the tributaries are that feed the Mississippi upriver from Memphis--tributaries like the Tennessee River, the Cumberland River, the Ohio River, the Missouri River, and, of course, the upper Mississippi River.
For a while, I wasn't sure Isaac was going to send any rain up into those regions. It sounded like its remnants were mostly affecting northern Louisiana, Arkansas, and central Mississippi. Here at Memphis we got a lot of wind but not much rain besides a couple of heavy thundershowers. But now it appears that some rain is falling up in places that will send some water our way.
Yesterday's paddling session certainly was a windy one. I did some balance drills on the procession of waves moving from south to north in the harbor.
The remnants of Hurricane Isaac apparently have dropped enough precipitation in the Tennessee and Ohio valleys to send some water down here to Memphis. We have gotten relatively little rain here at Memphis, but rain here does not affect the Mississippi's level at Memphis. Nor does rain in Arkansas and southern Missouri, because those watersheds drain into the St. Francis, White, and Arkansas Rivers, which enter the Mississippi downstream of Memphis, and the Red River, which feeds the Atchafalaya.
To make the Mississippi rise at Memphis, rain must fall in the Tennessee valley, the Midwest, and the upper Great Plains. That's where the tributaries are that feed the Mississippi upriver from Memphis--tributaries like the Tennessee River, the Cumberland River, the Ohio River, the Missouri River, and, of course, the upper Mississippi River.
For a while, I wasn't sure Isaac was going to send any rain up into those regions. It sounded like its remnants were mostly affecting northern Louisiana, Arkansas, and central Mississippi. Here at Memphis we got a lot of wind but not much rain besides a couple of heavy thundershowers. But now it appears that some rain is falling up in places that will send some water our way.
Yesterday's paddling session certainly was a windy one. I did some balance drills on the procession of waves moving from south to north in the harbor.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Contrast
I've long been fascinated by the incredible range of water levels the Mississippi River goes through in any given year. Right now, with near-record low levels just fifteen months after last year's near-record high levels, I'm as fascinated as ever.
I took this picture from my boat this morning. These condos overlook the harbor just south of Harbortown Marina. Today's river level on the Memphis gauge is -9.4 feet (the record low, recorded in July of 1988, is -10.7 feet).
This picture shows those same condos in May of last year, as the river was approaching its crest of 48.03 feet (the record high is 48.7 feet, recorded in February of 1937).
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Still enough water to paddle (for now)
This morning I rode my bike downtown and paddled for an hour. The river level was about -9.1 feet on the Memphis gauge. The forecast for the coming week has it dropping some, but not below -10 feet.
About a third of the canoe and kayak dock on our marina has run aground. During "normal" water levels (10 to 20 feet, say), the horizontal distance from the dock to the bank is 50 feet or more. As you can see here, that distance ranges from zero to about four feet right now.
The water beneath the rest of the marina is becoming alarmingly shallow. Some of the finger piers are riding up, and I expect some of the deeper-drafting boats are grazing the bottom.
About a third of the canoe and kayak dock on our marina has run aground. During "normal" water levels (10 to 20 feet, say), the horizontal distance from the dock to the bank is 50 feet or more. As you can see here, that distance ranges from zero to about four feet right now.
The water beneath the rest of the marina is becoming alarmingly shallow. Some of the finger piers are riding up, and I expect some of the deeper-drafting boats are grazing the bottom.
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Very, very low
The lowest Memphis gauge reading ever for the Mississippi River is -10.7 feet back in the summer of 1988. Right now, the level is about -9.4 feet. I went down there and paddled for an hour this morning, and I'm pretty sure it's the lowest level I've ever paddled at. The lowest level I can remember in the last decade or so is about -8.5 feet.
It's actually a great level for camping. With all the sandbars exposed, the choice of sites is just about unlimited. Martha and I should get out there soon to camp or at least to spend an afternoon exploring the vast expanses of sand.
Meanwhile, even at this near-record-low level, the Mississippi is a very big river. The French Broad River, which drains a sizable chunk of western North Carolina, is a pretty big river for that part of the world, but the section I paddled last Sunday is no more than a third of the current width of the Mississippi at Memphis, and nowhere near the volume of water.
It's actually a great level for camping. With all the sandbars exposed, the choice of sites is just about unlimited. Martha and I should get out there soon to camp or at least to spend an afternoon exploring the vast expanses of sand.
Meanwhile, even at this near-record-low level, the Mississippi is a very big river. The French Broad River, which drains a sizable chunk of western North Carolina, is a pretty big river for that part of the world, but the section I paddled last Sunday is no more than a third of the current width of the Mississippi at Memphis, and nowhere near the volume of water.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
I promise this post has to do with paddling
Well, now it can be told. The secret has been declassified. Where was I last week? Taking a class at the Country Workshops school of traditional woodcraft in the North Carolina mountains.
It was a coopering class. "Coopering" is the craft of shaping wood into staves and assembling them to make buckets, barrels, and other vessels. Old-time milking buckets and beer and wine kegs are examples of vessels that were coopered. Most modern-day coopered vessels are machine-made, but there are a few people out there still doing it by hand, and the mission of Country Workshops is to keep such skills alive. In the class I took, all the students made simple buckets; mine is pictured at right. The staves are eastern white pine, and the two hoops around the bucket are maple.
Coopering is probably the most challenging woodworking endeavor that I have tried to date. The staves contain compound angles (i.e., a plane is tilted by x degrees on one axis, then by y degrees on another axis) that must be cut very precisely so that they all will fit together snugly and form a nice circle. Even more challenging is to make the ends of the hoops lock together to form a circle of just the right size to fit around the bucket. Since the "male" and "female" parts of these locks are at opposite ends of a strip of wood, no "test-fitting" is possible until the strip is steamed and bent to form the hoop. And so very precise measuring and cutting is necessary to make sure they fit together nicely and form a hoop of the right size.
The instructor for this class was Mr. Carl Swensson of Baltimore, Maryland. I had taken a class in Japanese woodworking taught by Carl last summer and come away feeling that my skill level had improved markedly under Carl's tutelage, and I eagerly signed up for this class so I could work with him some more. I am not disappointed with the results.
Carl puts a lot of thought into how people--not just woodworkers, but people in all fields--become skilled. Here are just a few of the remarks I have heard Carl make in the two classes I have taken from him:
"The highest-achieving people are the ones who do the basics better than anyone else."
"It's better to be focused and precise for one hour than to be less so for many hours."
"The best people are making just as many mistakes as you are, but their mistakes are smaller, and they recover from them more quickly."
"When you find yourself struggling with something, it's foolish to think that just sticking with it for another hour or year or decade is going to make you any better at it. Rather, you should ask yourself, 'What can I change? Is my tool sharp enough? Would a different grip be better? Should I get help from a book, or a video, or a fellow woodworker, or a teacher?'"
In the class, Carl broke each phase of the project down into steps that at times seemed absurdly small. To achieve that compound angle on the edge of each stave, he had us use our hand planes to establish an edge at the first angle, then an edge at the second angle. And each of those steps was broken down into even smaller steps: after marking the lines we wanted to plane down to, we chamfered the edges with a carving knife, colored the chamfers with crayon, and then planed until the crayon had disappeared; in this way we "sneaked up" on a surface that was at the desired angle to the stave's broad face.
All along, we cut a little, then checked the result, then cut a little more, then checked again. If we made a mistake, we caught it early and corrected it. In a sense, the project was just "one long repair job."
"Information is king," says Carl, when you start to learn a new skill. Before you try something you've never tried before, don't start from zero; seek out information in a book, or on a video, or from samples of other people's work. Many of us can make significant advancements simply by observing and imitating others. Sooner or later, however, most of us will reach a plateau and will need some further guidance to take our skills higher.
In the early going, a person's work will be slow and probably not so accurate as his brain works hard to process the new information. But with practice, his response to a mistake becomes quicker, and as a result the mistake is smaller because it has been caught early. The more automatic this response is, the more accurate the work is. Think of a highly-skilled woodworker using a saw to cut to a line: when the saw begins to wander from the line, the craftsman senses it immediately and makes the necessary adjustment. The result is a very accurate cut. His cut is in fact "one long repair job" just like that of a beginner who cut a little and checks and cuts a little more, but because his response time for little errors is so short, he eliminates that step of cutting and checking, and it appears that he's just making the cut with no errors at all.
During the week we watched a video of Reudi Kohler, a Swiss master cooper, making a bucket. He was doing all the things to make his bucket that we were doing to make ours, but much more quickly and matter-of-factly. As Carl put it, he was skipping those intermediate steps that we were following because he had the skill and the experience and the muscle memory to do so.
Okay... I can hear the groans. You're all sitting there thinking, "Come on, Holmes, I read your blog because I'm interested in canoeing and kayaking. What's with all this woodworking stuff?"
Well, I'll tell you what's with it: I think these same methods we used to learn to cooper a bucket apply to paddling, as well as about every other sport.
I can't tell you how many paddlers I've known over the years whose skill level was stagnant because they wouldn't let go of the poor techniques that they had become comfortable with. I've known paddlers who would drive to the Ocoee every weekend of the summer, run the river two or three times each trip, stop at every playspot and play until they dropped; and yet by the end of the summer, they didn't seem to be any better as paddlers than they had been at the beginning.
The reason they weren't improving is that they weren't seeking better ways to paddle, but rather reinforcing their bad habits. Furthermore, as their hours on the river mounted each day, they got tired and developed even more bad habits.
I'm not saying it's wrong to spend a day playing on the Ocoee or any other fun river--that's the reason we paddle, after all--but the best paddlers I've known over the years have not relied on that to advance their skills. For them, paddling is something they do for an hour or two each day, on whatever little river or lake is near their home. On easy water they're not distracted by big waves and holes and drops, and they can focus on the small things that make up a move or even a single stroke. They're always asking themselves if there's a better way to do something than the way they've been doing it.
Finding such answers is not always easy. I know I've been stuck on a few plateaus.
Racing slalom certainly raised my overall skill level. The idea of having to train for something motivated me to spend some time each day in my boat on easy water here in whitewater-poor Memphis. I saw surprisingly good results when I made a weekend trip to a whitewater river.
It was in the races that my weaknesses were exposed. Though I was a good learner by watching the other racers, and my results improved as the years went by, a lot of guys were still getting down the course a lot faster than I was, and it took me a long time to understand why. Apparently, being in good shape and having solid whitewater skills wasn't enough.
Eventually, attending several training camps and getting some advice from coaches, I began to see what was going on. The best racers--the ones who were making the national team regularly--had exceptional command of the basic skills that allowed them to concentrate on what really mattered, which was getting to the finish line. They positioned their boats relative to the direction of the river's current so that every single stroke was a good, strong stroke that propelled them toward the next gate. I, meanwhile was always sneaking in little rudder strokes and other corrections, so even if my run was penalty-free, it was slow.
It's important to note that a top racer makes lots of mistakes during a run. But his mistakes are small, and he recovers from them quickly. If his boat veers off his intended line, he gets it right back on with one stroke or even just some body english. Just like the master craftsman making a saw cut, he corrects his errors so quickly that it doesn't appear that he's making any errors at all. A less capable racer (like me) tends to let his errors grow into a major loss of time, and maybe some missed gates as well.
It's been about seven years since I last entered a whitewater slalom race. But I still think about those racing days quite often: things I learned, things I accomplished, things I wish I'd done better. At age 45 (as of next Tuesday), I've probably missed my window for challenging Olympic champion Tony Estanguet. But I've got the eternal itch to go out and paddle my boat as well as I possibly can.
And so, when my coopering class came to an end and I went down the mountain for a day of paddling on Section IX of the French Broad River, I looked for one skill I could work on. I decided to eddy-hop through each rapid and take precise strokes across the current between eddies.
A stream of current down a river is rarely uniform. It usually contains ribbons of slack water and other disturbances caused by rocks beneath the surface. So each time I sat in an eddy studying my path to the next eddy, I asked myself how I could get across the current in the smallest possible number of strokes. I planned my strokes according to the strength and direction of the current, and made the crossing to the next eddy trying to use only the strokes I needed. Just as taking one pass too many with a hand plane can throw a woodworking project off course and require extra time and energy, one stroke too many with a paddle can throw the boat off course and require extra time and energy.
Between the rapids I drifted along and enjoyed the beauty of the gorge that the river cuts through the mountains on its way to Tennessee. I was getting tired with a couple of miles to go, so I eased up on the drilling and popped a few enders at Frank Bell's Rapid before completing the journey to Hot Springs. I took out with that happy feeling of having done something I value and enjoy.
I probably won't be re-entering the slalom circuit, so the top racers in the U.S. may rest easy. But it sure was fun to spend a week in the mountains contemplating my skills in the workshop and on the river.
Coopering is probably the most challenging woodworking endeavor that I have tried to date. The staves contain compound angles (i.e., a plane is tilted by x degrees on one axis, then by y degrees on another axis) that must be cut very precisely so that they all will fit together snugly and form a nice circle. Even more challenging is to make the ends of the hoops lock together to form a circle of just the right size to fit around the bucket. Since the "male" and "female" parts of these locks are at opposite ends of a strip of wood, no "test-fitting" is possible until the strip is steamed and bent to form the hoop. And so very precise measuring and cutting is necessary to make sure they fit together nicely and form a hoop of the right size.
The instructor for this class was Mr. Carl Swensson of Baltimore, Maryland. I had taken a class in Japanese woodworking taught by Carl last summer and come away feeling that my skill level had improved markedly under Carl's tutelage, and I eagerly signed up for this class so I could work with him some more. I am not disappointed with the results.
Carl puts a lot of thought into how people--not just woodworkers, but people in all fields--become skilled. Here are just a few of the remarks I have heard Carl make in the two classes I have taken from him:
"The highest-achieving people are the ones who do the basics better than anyone else."
"It's better to be focused and precise for one hour than to be less so for many hours."
"The best people are making just as many mistakes as you are, but their mistakes are smaller, and they recover from them more quickly."
"When you find yourself struggling with something, it's foolish to think that just sticking with it for another hour or year or decade is going to make you any better at it. Rather, you should ask yourself, 'What can I change? Is my tool sharp enough? Would a different grip be better? Should I get help from a book, or a video, or a fellow woodworker, or a teacher?'"
In the class, Carl broke each phase of the project down into steps that at times seemed absurdly small. To achieve that compound angle on the edge of each stave, he had us use our hand planes to establish an edge at the first angle, then an edge at the second angle. And each of those steps was broken down into even smaller steps: after marking the lines we wanted to plane down to, we chamfered the edges with a carving knife, colored the chamfers with crayon, and then planed until the crayon had disappeared; in this way we "sneaked up" on a surface that was at the desired angle to the stave's broad face.
All along, we cut a little, then checked the result, then cut a little more, then checked again. If we made a mistake, we caught it early and corrected it. In a sense, the project was just "one long repair job."
"Information is king," says Carl, when you start to learn a new skill. Before you try something you've never tried before, don't start from zero; seek out information in a book, or on a video, or from samples of other people's work. Many of us can make significant advancements simply by observing and imitating others. Sooner or later, however, most of us will reach a plateau and will need some further guidance to take our skills higher.
In the early going, a person's work will be slow and probably not so accurate as his brain works hard to process the new information. But with practice, his response to a mistake becomes quicker, and as a result the mistake is smaller because it has been caught early. The more automatic this response is, the more accurate the work is. Think of a highly-skilled woodworker using a saw to cut to a line: when the saw begins to wander from the line, the craftsman senses it immediately and makes the necessary adjustment. The result is a very accurate cut. His cut is in fact "one long repair job" just like that of a beginner who cut a little and checks and cuts a little more, but because his response time for little errors is so short, he eliminates that step of cutting and checking, and it appears that he's just making the cut with no errors at all.
During the week we watched a video of Reudi Kohler, a Swiss master cooper, making a bucket. He was doing all the things to make his bucket that we were doing to make ours, but much more quickly and matter-of-factly. As Carl put it, he was skipping those intermediate steps that we were following because he had the skill and the experience and the muscle memory to do so.
Okay... I can hear the groans. You're all sitting there thinking, "Come on, Holmes, I read your blog because I'm interested in canoeing and kayaking. What's with all this woodworking stuff?"
Well, I'll tell you what's with it: I think these same methods we used to learn to cooper a bucket apply to paddling, as well as about every other sport.
I can't tell you how many paddlers I've known over the years whose skill level was stagnant because they wouldn't let go of the poor techniques that they had become comfortable with. I've known paddlers who would drive to the Ocoee every weekend of the summer, run the river two or three times each trip, stop at every playspot and play until they dropped; and yet by the end of the summer, they didn't seem to be any better as paddlers than they had been at the beginning.
The reason they weren't improving is that they weren't seeking better ways to paddle, but rather reinforcing their bad habits. Furthermore, as their hours on the river mounted each day, they got tired and developed even more bad habits.
I'm not saying it's wrong to spend a day playing on the Ocoee or any other fun river--that's the reason we paddle, after all--but the best paddlers I've known over the years have not relied on that to advance their skills. For them, paddling is something they do for an hour or two each day, on whatever little river or lake is near their home. On easy water they're not distracted by big waves and holes and drops, and they can focus on the small things that make up a move or even a single stroke. They're always asking themselves if there's a better way to do something than the way they've been doing it.
Finding such answers is not always easy. I know I've been stuck on a few plateaus.
Racing slalom certainly raised my overall skill level. The idea of having to train for something motivated me to spend some time each day in my boat on easy water here in whitewater-poor Memphis. I saw surprisingly good results when I made a weekend trip to a whitewater river.
It was in the races that my weaknesses were exposed. Though I was a good learner by watching the other racers, and my results improved as the years went by, a lot of guys were still getting down the course a lot faster than I was, and it took me a long time to understand why. Apparently, being in good shape and having solid whitewater skills wasn't enough.
Eventually, attending several training camps and getting some advice from coaches, I began to see what was going on. The best racers--the ones who were making the national team regularly--had exceptional command of the basic skills that allowed them to concentrate on what really mattered, which was getting to the finish line. They positioned their boats relative to the direction of the river's current so that every single stroke was a good, strong stroke that propelled them toward the next gate. I, meanwhile was always sneaking in little rudder strokes and other corrections, so even if my run was penalty-free, it was slow.
It's important to note that a top racer makes lots of mistakes during a run. But his mistakes are small, and he recovers from them quickly. If his boat veers off his intended line, he gets it right back on with one stroke or even just some body english. Just like the master craftsman making a saw cut, he corrects his errors so quickly that it doesn't appear that he's making any errors at all. A less capable racer (like me) tends to let his errors grow into a major loss of time, and maybe some missed gates as well.
It's been about seven years since I last entered a whitewater slalom race. But I still think about those racing days quite often: things I learned, things I accomplished, things I wish I'd done better. At age 45 (as of next Tuesday), I've probably missed my window for challenging Olympic champion Tony Estanguet. But I've got the eternal itch to go out and paddle my boat as well as I possibly can.
And so, when my coopering class came to an end and I went down the mountain for a day of paddling on Section IX of the French Broad River, I looked for one skill I could work on. I decided to eddy-hop through each rapid and take precise strokes across the current between eddies.
A stream of current down a river is rarely uniform. It usually contains ribbons of slack water and other disturbances caused by rocks beneath the surface. So each time I sat in an eddy studying my path to the next eddy, I asked myself how I could get across the current in the smallest possible number of strokes. I planned my strokes according to the strength and direction of the current, and made the crossing to the next eddy trying to use only the strokes I needed. Just as taking one pass too many with a hand plane can throw a woodworking project off course and require extra time and energy, one stroke too many with a paddle can throw the boat off course and require extra time and energy.
Between the rapids I drifted along and enjoyed the beauty of the gorge that the river cuts through the mountains on its way to Tennessee. I was getting tired with a couple of miles to go, so I eased up on the drilling and popped a few enders at Frank Bell's Rapid before completing the journey to Hot Springs. I took out with that happy feeling of having done something I value and enjoy.
I probably won't be re-entering the slalom circuit, so the top racers in the U.S. may rest easy. But it sure was fun to spend a week in the mountains contemplating my skills in the workshop and on the river.
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