My first race of the season is now less than a week away. On Friday I will make the six-hour drive down to Ocean Springs, Mississippi, for the annual Battle On The Bayou canoe and kayak race. This event debuted in 2010 and will go off for the seventh time Saturday. It starts in the Back Bay of Biloxi and quickly enters Old Fort Bayou, following this mostly-currentless creek some nine and a half miles (approximately 15 kilometers) to a finish line next to The Shed barbecue joint.
I won the first two editions of this race rather easily, but since then the competition has beefed up a bit and I've managed only one victory in the last four Battles. The likelihood of my notching another win this Saturday plummeted this past week when Mike Herbert of Rogers, Arkansas, signed up. Mike is a three-time Olympian (1988, 1992, 1996) in flatwater sprint kayaking and a member of the tiny group of U.S. paddlers who have medaled at the world championships (he won two silvers and a bronze at the 1990 and 1991 worlds). He has stayed in excellent shape in his middle age, and in 2014 he returned to world championships competition at age 53 as a member of the U.S. marathon team.
At the non-world-class level Mike still likes to get out his boat and race, and since he and I live in neighboring states I see him at races several times a year. What usually happens is that after we wish each other luck at the starting line, Mike rockets into the lead and vanishes from my view in a matter of minutes. I wish I were more competitive with the man, and I have a feeling Mike wishes I were, too: he's a competitor and relishes a good hard-fought contest. But the truth is, we're in different leagues. If our sport were baseball, Mike would be in the majors while I might be playing my whole career in double-A ball.
As far as my preparation for next Saturday goes, nothing really changes. My task is to put Mike out of my mind and stick to my own race plan. I know at least two or three other boats have registered that should give me plenty of competition; the only difference now is that we're racing for second place overall.
My plan for this week is to get some rest, but that doesn't mean just lying around doing nothing, and it also doesn't mean paddling so slowly my heart rate barely rises above normal. Actually, I'll do some very high-intensity paddling this week, but not so much in any one session that I'll get worn out.
I paddled for 60 minutes both yesterday and today. Yesterday I warmed up for ten minutes and then did three of my backpaddling-then-forward-paddling power drills. After that I paddled at a medium-highish speed--about the pace I'd be going in a race while sitting on a competitor's wake and not pushing the pace. Today, after warming up, I did eight 12-stroke sprints at two-minute intervals to work my ATP-CP energy system, and then did some more paddling at non-surging-race-pace. At the end of both sessions this weekend I did not feel tired even though I'd done some high-quality paddling, and that's what I'm shooting for in the days leading up to a race. Sometimes I feel fresher after such a session than I'd felt before.
The greater Memphis area is pretty soggy right now. I've managed to avoid paddling in the rain since Thursday's session, but we had some heavy rainfall yesterday evening and we may get one more round of it this evening. After that the weatherman says it'll dry out and be lovely for a good long time.
Sunday, March 13, 2016
Thursday, March 10, 2016
Cats & dogs
Some serious rain moved in yesterday and has continued through today. It's the same system that has caused major flooding in northern Louisiana and eastern Texas and southern Arkansas. Here in the greater Memphis area we've been fortunate to get by with some localized flash-flooding. Other than that we've just been soaking wet.
As promised, I took it easy for the first half of this week, although I'm not sure doing landscape work on my property is really "taking it easy." I've been careful, but my back is nevertheless a bit sore from a lot of squatting and bending over.
Today was about the latest I could get in a workout from which my body might reap some benefit in time for the Ocean Springs race a week from Saturday. Down on the harbor in a steady downpour, I did pieces of 1', 2', 2', 6', 2', 2', 6', 2', 2', 1' with two minutes recovery in between. I did all ten pieces at about the maximum pace I hope to maintain (i.e., the pace during a long surge) in the race.
As promised, I took it easy for the first half of this week, although I'm not sure doing landscape work on my property is really "taking it easy." I've been careful, but my back is nevertheless a bit sore from a lot of squatting and bending over.
Today was about the latest I could get in a workout from which my body might reap some benefit in time for the Ocean Springs race a week from Saturday. Down on the harbor in a steady downpour, I did pieces of 1', 2', 2', 6', 2', 2', 6', 2', 2', 1' with two minutes recovery in between. I did all ten pieces at about the maximum pace I hope to maintain (i.e., the pace during a long surge) in the race.
Monday, March 7, 2016
Monday photo feature
Well, I followed up on last Monday's thought and took my Go Pro camera out with me the other day. I set it to take a shot every ten seconds as I ferried across the river above the Hernando DeSoto Bridge. Many of the resulting photos went straight to the trash, of course, but there were a dozen or so keepers. I think my fair city is every bit as picturesque as the islands of Hawaii.
Sunday, March 6, 2016
A grueling-hard time trial Saturday and a fun-hard session today
Yesterday I observed what seems to have become an annual ritual: a time trial for one lap of the harbor. You can read my account of last year's trial here. The 2014 edition is here.
I first timed myself over one harbor lap seven or eight years ago; I'm pretty sure I still had my old Speedster surf ski when I did it. My time was 56 minutes and change. I don't think I did it again until two years ago, when I wanted a fitness check several weeks before my first race of the year down at Ocean Springs. This time my time was 50:32, and since then a sub-50-minute performance has been on my wish list. It hasn't happened yet, however.
My "starting gate" for the course is between two trees at the north end of the harbor. I paddle all the way to the south end and make a turn around an imaginary buoy that sits on the line you get by extending the center line of Beale Street down into the harbor. I've picked out a spot on the Beale Street Landing dock to help me determine when to make the turn. The finish line is the same as the starting line. For a better idea of what I'm talking about, read my description of Wolf River Harbor here. It includes a map.
Using a time trial like this as an indicator of fitness and race-readiness is not an exact science. A big part of the reason is that weather and water conditions affect how "fast" the course is, and so it's hard to compare one year's performance to another year's accurately. This year the conditions appeared to be good for a fast time: the water level was a medium-high 26.7 feet on the Memphis gauge, meaning I could cut the insides of bends closer and take more direct lines than I would be able to at lower levels; skies were clear and the temperature was in the low 60s Fahrenheit; and the wind wasn't too bad, maybe 8 or 9 miles per hour from the southwest.
A good or bad time trial also does not necessarily predict a similar result in an upcoming race. In a race you're typically doing some tactical things--sitting in a pack and trading wake rides, for instance. In a time trial you just put the hammer down and try to go as fast as you can.
Anyway...
Yesterday I put my boat in the water and used the paddle up to the north end of the harbor as a warmup. I did three eight-stroke sprints and then moved into the starting gate. When my watch reached the top of the next minute, I was off. Starting fast and getting good position early in a race is always important, and I went hard off the line yesterday. I kept the intensity high for about two minutes--longer than I probably would do in a race.
Then I settled into the pace I hoped to maintain for the bulk of the trial, a little bit under anaerobic threshold. Again, this was harder than I'm likely to go in a race, but one of the things I want to accomplish in a time trial is to make a race seem easy by comparison.
By the time I passed the marina, which is about halfway between the ends of the harbor (and thus the approximate quarter-mark for the entire time trial) fatigue was setting in, and I knew I was in for a struggle. My exposure to the headwind increased as I moved south of the monorail bridge. I reached the turnaround point in about 26:55, well off the pace for a sub-50. But I was switching from a light headwind to a light tailwind, so I refused to give up hope.
Of course, a tailwind is not without a couple of drawbacks. My sunglasses began to fog up, and sweat started stinging my eyes. I think two different times I had to stop paddling and splash my face.
By the time I was back north of the monorail bridge I was hurting pretty good. I lowered my stroke rate and tried to paddle with the best form I could manage.
I crossed the line in 52:15, slower than I'd hoped for. Then again, I was encouraged by my negative split: I was a minute and 35 seconds faster in the second half than in the first.
Utterly exhausted, I paddled slowly back to the marina. My total time on the water was just over 90 minutes. I had put some well-above-average stress on my body and I could feel it the rest of the day. I managed a small bit of landscape work in the afternoon but I was too spent to do much else. I slept the sleep of the dead last night.
I felt surprisingly good this morning--not too stiff or sore. Some recovery time is definitely on the schedule for the next several days, but today I wanted to get in another good quality session if I could. I paddled to the mouth of the harbor and up the Mississippi to the mouth of the Wolf River. During this period I tried to maintain a good solid pace without feeling like I was really pushing it.
Then I picked up the pace, paddling up the Wolf near anaerobic threshold, turning around at the Second Street bridge, and continuing my elevated pace back down to the Mississippi.
I paddled easier back down the big river. A towboat was pushing a barge up into the harbor when I arrived down there, and the pilot must have been on a tight schedule because he was going faster than a towboat really should go in the harbor, generating some nice-looking waves. Tired or not tired, I couldn't resist the urge to surf. I managed to ride a couple of little bumps briefly. Then the towboat slowed to a crawl in the no-wake zone at the Mud Island Marina between the monorail bridge and the Hernando DeSoto Bridge, and I caught up and overtook his stern. Once beyond the no-wake zone, the pilot revved the engines again, and this time I was in perfect position and grabbed a long, sweet ride on an ample wave. There were some spectators up on the Bass Pro Shops observation deck, but if they were oohing and aahing at my masterful display I didn't hear them.
I finally washed off the wave, and several hard sprints couldn't quite get me on another. So I retired to the dock to conclude what turned out to 100 minutes of good-quality work.
Like I said, I plan to take it easier for the next several days. Maybe I'll manage one more decent workout that my body will have time to absorb before the Battle On The Bayou race at Ocean Springs on the 19th.
I first timed myself over one harbor lap seven or eight years ago; I'm pretty sure I still had my old Speedster surf ski when I did it. My time was 56 minutes and change. I don't think I did it again until two years ago, when I wanted a fitness check several weeks before my first race of the year down at Ocean Springs. This time my time was 50:32, and since then a sub-50-minute performance has been on my wish list. It hasn't happened yet, however.
My "starting gate" for the course is between two trees at the north end of the harbor. I paddle all the way to the south end and make a turn around an imaginary buoy that sits on the line you get by extending the center line of Beale Street down into the harbor. I've picked out a spot on the Beale Street Landing dock to help me determine when to make the turn. The finish line is the same as the starting line. For a better idea of what I'm talking about, read my description of Wolf River Harbor here. It includes a map.
Using a time trial like this as an indicator of fitness and race-readiness is not an exact science. A big part of the reason is that weather and water conditions affect how "fast" the course is, and so it's hard to compare one year's performance to another year's accurately. This year the conditions appeared to be good for a fast time: the water level was a medium-high 26.7 feet on the Memphis gauge, meaning I could cut the insides of bends closer and take more direct lines than I would be able to at lower levels; skies were clear and the temperature was in the low 60s Fahrenheit; and the wind wasn't too bad, maybe 8 or 9 miles per hour from the southwest.
A good or bad time trial also does not necessarily predict a similar result in an upcoming race. In a race you're typically doing some tactical things--sitting in a pack and trading wake rides, for instance. In a time trial you just put the hammer down and try to go as fast as you can.
Anyway...
Yesterday I put my boat in the water and used the paddle up to the north end of the harbor as a warmup. I did three eight-stroke sprints and then moved into the starting gate. When my watch reached the top of the next minute, I was off. Starting fast and getting good position early in a race is always important, and I went hard off the line yesterday. I kept the intensity high for about two minutes--longer than I probably would do in a race.
Then I settled into the pace I hoped to maintain for the bulk of the trial, a little bit under anaerobic threshold. Again, this was harder than I'm likely to go in a race, but one of the things I want to accomplish in a time trial is to make a race seem easy by comparison.
By the time I passed the marina, which is about halfway between the ends of the harbor (and thus the approximate quarter-mark for the entire time trial) fatigue was setting in, and I knew I was in for a struggle. My exposure to the headwind increased as I moved south of the monorail bridge. I reached the turnaround point in about 26:55, well off the pace for a sub-50. But I was switching from a light headwind to a light tailwind, so I refused to give up hope.
Of course, a tailwind is not without a couple of drawbacks. My sunglasses began to fog up, and sweat started stinging my eyes. I think two different times I had to stop paddling and splash my face.
By the time I was back north of the monorail bridge I was hurting pretty good. I lowered my stroke rate and tried to paddle with the best form I could manage.
I crossed the line in 52:15, slower than I'd hoped for. Then again, I was encouraged by my negative split: I was a minute and 35 seconds faster in the second half than in the first.
Utterly exhausted, I paddled slowly back to the marina. My total time on the water was just over 90 minutes. I had put some well-above-average stress on my body and I could feel it the rest of the day. I managed a small bit of landscape work in the afternoon but I was too spent to do much else. I slept the sleep of the dead last night.
I felt surprisingly good this morning--not too stiff or sore. Some recovery time is definitely on the schedule for the next several days, but today I wanted to get in another good quality session if I could. I paddled to the mouth of the harbor and up the Mississippi to the mouth of the Wolf River. During this period I tried to maintain a good solid pace without feeling like I was really pushing it.
Then I picked up the pace, paddling up the Wolf near anaerobic threshold, turning around at the Second Street bridge, and continuing my elevated pace back down to the Mississippi.
I paddled easier back down the big river. A towboat was pushing a barge up into the harbor when I arrived down there, and the pilot must have been on a tight schedule because he was going faster than a towboat really should go in the harbor, generating some nice-looking waves. Tired or not tired, I couldn't resist the urge to surf. I managed to ride a couple of little bumps briefly. Then the towboat slowed to a crawl in the no-wake zone at the Mud Island Marina between the monorail bridge and the Hernando DeSoto Bridge, and I caught up and overtook his stern. Once beyond the no-wake zone, the pilot revved the engines again, and this time I was in perfect position and grabbed a long, sweet ride on an ample wave. There were some spectators up on the Bass Pro Shops observation deck, but if they were oohing and aahing at my masterful display I didn't hear them.
I finally washed off the wave, and several hard sprints couldn't quite get me on another. So I retired to the dock to conclude what turned out to 100 minutes of good-quality work.
Like I said, I plan to take it easier for the next several days. Maybe I'll manage one more decent workout that my body will have time to absorb before the Battle On The Bayou race at Ocean Springs on the 19th.
Thursday, March 3, 2016
Feelin' the power
Both Tuesday and today I paddled for 60 minutes downtown. It would have made sense for me to start up a new strength routine for March yesterday, but I didn't. Right now I'm taking advantage of a lull in woodworking projects to do some long-overdue landscape work on my property, and that has involved a lot of digging in tough soil full of roots and gravel. Two or three hours of that kind of work leaves me with little energy for any kind of weight work. Besides, the digging itself, especially the post-hole digging, works some interesting muscle groups. I'm trying to use good technique and not do anything that might throw out my back or something like that.
Meanwhile, I'm trying to follow up last month's power-oriented strength routine with some in-the-boat power drills.
Here are some interesting thoughts from Ron Lugbill on the issue of power. Ron is a slalom coach writing primarily for slalom racers, and power is a more important component in slalom, in which the paddler must constantly re-accelerate the boat from one move to the next, than it is in the type of racing I'm doing these days. But power definitely has its place in what I do.
I was reminded of that several years ago when I traveled to a race in October. That year my highest-priority races were in the spring and summer, and by October I was sort of going through the motions, spending the hot late-summer days doing mostly low-intensity paddling. Going to this race was sort of an "Oh, why not?" decision for me.
There were several athletes in the race I considered "in my league"--people I felt I should be competitive with and maybe even beat. But when the gun went off I found I had only one gear: slow. I had absolutely no "pop" off the starting line. Two hundred meters in I was all but out of contention.
Since that day I have tried not to let that happen again. Exploding off the starting line may be the most obvious example of how power is useful in open water/marathon/surf ski racing, but it comes in handy at other moments, too. It enables you to throw in a burst of speed mid-race to break away from a pack. And in downwind conditions, power can make the difference between catching a ride on a wave and sliding off the back of it.
I like how Ron distinguishes power from plain strength in his post: "Power is the ability to move against resistance quickly. This is different from strength, which is just the ability to make the movement against resistance."
A typical power drill involves doing an explosive movement a small number of reps at a time. If you do too many reps, you get tired and can no longer explode, and then you're just developing regular strength. In last month's routine I was doing those exercises in sets of maybe five reps at a time.
I know several in-the-boat drills for working on power. The one I did both and Tuesday and today had me taking a few backstrokes to get the boat moving in reverse, and then paddling forward as hard as I could for a few strokes, overcoming the inertia. I did this drill early in each session while I was still fresh, and each day I did it just three times with two minutes recovery. I just paddled normally for the rest of each session.
Another way to work on power is to paddle forward into an immovable object, like a dock or the riverbank. I've found that this isn't very easy to do in my surf ski. You can also add resistance to your boat by tying a rope around the hull or by towing some kind of weight or other resistor. A couple of years ago I tied one end of a polypropylene rope to a five-gallon bucket, looped the other end of the rope around my waist, and paddled hard against that resistance for a few strokes at a time. In between, I took the rope off my waist and paddled easy to recover before doing the drill again. Polypropylene rope floats, so I would circle back around to where I left it and put it back on. That method of resistance worked well but it was kind of a time-consuming hassle, and that's why I haven't done it again since then.
Anyway, we'll see how things go this time around. I'll be racing soon! The season opener is just two weeks from this Saturday.
Meanwhile, I'm trying to follow up last month's power-oriented strength routine with some in-the-boat power drills.
Here are some interesting thoughts from Ron Lugbill on the issue of power. Ron is a slalom coach writing primarily for slalom racers, and power is a more important component in slalom, in which the paddler must constantly re-accelerate the boat from one move to the next, than it is in the type of racing I'm doing these days. But power definitely has its place in what I do.
I was reminded of that several years ago when I traveled to a race in October. That year my highest-priority races were in the spring and summer, and by October I was sort of going through the motions, spending the hot late-summer days doing mostly low-intensity paddling. Going to this race was sort of an "Oh, why not?" decision for me.
There were several athletes in the race I considered "in my league"--people I felt I should be competitive with and maybe even beat. But when the gun went off I found I had only one gear: slow. I had absolutely no "pop" off the starting line. Two hundred meters in I was all but out of contention.
Since that day I have tried not to let that happen again. Exploding off the starting line may be the most obvious example of how power is useful in open water/marathon/surf ski racing, but it comes in handy at other moments, too. It enables you to throw in a burst of speed mid-race to break away from a pack. And in downwind conditions, power can make the difference between catching a ride on a wave and sliding off the back of it.
I like how Ron distinguishes power from plain strength in his post: "Power is the ability to move against resistance quickly. This is different from strength, which is just the ability to make the movement against resistance."
A typical power drill involves doing an explosive movement a small number of reps at a time. If you do too many reps, you get tired and can no longer explode, and then you're just developing regular strength. In last month's routine I was doing those exercises in sets of maybe five reps at a time.
I know several in-the-boat drills for working on power. The one I did both and Tuesday and today had me taking a few backstrokes to get the boat moving in reverse, and then paddling forward as hard as I could for a few strokes, overcoming the inertia. I did this drill early in each session while I was still fresh, and each day I did it just three times with two minutes recovery. I just paddled normally for the rest of each session.
Another way to work on power is to paddle forward into an immovable object, like a dock or the riverbank. I've found that this isn't very easy to do in my surf ski. You can also add resistance to your boat by tying a rope around the hull or by towing some kind of weight or other resistor. A couple of years ago I tied one end of a polypropylene rope to a five-gallon bucket, looped the other end of the rope around my waist, and paddled hard against that resistance for a few strokes at a time. In between, I took the rope off my waist and paddled easy to recover before doing the drill again. Polypropylene rope floats, so I would circle back around to where I left it and put it back on. That method of resistance worked well but it was kind of a time-consuming hassle, and that's why I haven't done it again since then.
Anyway, we'll see how things go this time around. I'll be racing soon! The season opener is just two weeks from this Saturday.
Tuesday, March 1, 2016
Americana fun
One more bit of follow-up on my trip to Hawaii: I have now visited forty-eight of the fifty states in the United States of America! Only Alaska and Rhode Island have never enjoyed the favor of my presence.
What follows is a list of the fifty states. Those marked with an asterisk (*) are the ones I have merely visited. Those marked with a pound sign (#) are the ones I have visited and in which I have paddled a boat.
[Note: I do count it as a "visit" if I do nothing but drive through a state. I do not count it as a "visit" if all I do is change planes in an airport in a state.]
Alabama#
Alaska
Arizona*
Arkansas#
California#
Colorado#
Connecticut#
Delaware*
Florida#
Georgia#
Hawaii#
Idaho#
Illinois#
Indiana#
Iowa*
Kansas*
Kentucky#
Louisiana#
Maine*
Maryland#
Massachusetts*
Michigan#
Minnesota*
Mississippi#
Missouri#
Montana#
Nebraska*
Nevada*
New Hampshire*
New Jersey*
New Mexico#
New York#
North Carolina#
North Dakota*
Ohio*
Oklahoma*
Oregon#
Pennsylvania#
Rhode Island
South Carolina#
South Dakota*
Tennessee#
Texas#
Utah#
Vermont*
Virginia#
Washington#
West Virginia#
Wisconsin#
Wyoming#
What follows is a list of the fifty states. Those marked with an asterisk (*) are the ones I have merely visited. Those marked with a pound sign (#) are the ones I have visited and in which I have paddled a boat.
[Note: I do count it as a "visit" if I do nothing but drive through a state. I do not count it as a "visit" if all I do is change planes in an airport in a state.]
Alabama#
Alaska
Arizona*
Arkansas#
California#
Colorado#
Connecticut#
Delaware*
Florida#
Georgia#
Hawaii#
Idaho#
Illinois#
Indiana#
Iowa*
Kansas*
Kentucky#
Louisiana#
Maine*
Maryland#
Massachusetts*
Michigan#
Minnesota*
Mississippi#
Missouri#
Montana#
Nebraska*
Nevada*
New Hampshire*
New Jersey*
New Mexico#
New York#
North Carolina#
North Dakota*
Ohio*
Oklahoma*
Oregon#
Pennsylvania#
Rhode Island
South Carolina#
South Dakota*
Tennessee#
Texas#
Utah#
Vermont*
Virginia#
Washington#
West Virginia#
Wisconsin#
Wyoming#
Monday, February 29, 2016
I shouldn't get upset over little things
I'd planned to paddle yesterday morning, but some unexpected things came up and before I knew it, the morning had gotten away. Even though I should know better at this point in my athletic life, I let it bother me the rest of the day. I reminded myself there wasn't much time left to get some meaningful work in before my first race on March 19. I also hated not taking advantage of the lovely day yesterday was: it was in the mid 60s Fahrenheit and sunny, albeit quite windy.
I was determined to make it up today, and as it turned out today was an even better day: sunny again, a high temperature near 70 degrees, and much less windy. I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints, and then did a workout of eight 30-second sprints at three-minute intervals.
My cold symptoms seem to be running their course. I'm still somewhat congested and my throat feels a bit raw, but it's not too bad. I also paid a follow-up visit to the orthopedist today regarding my foot, which continues to feel much better even though I'm not sure it's a hundred percent cured. The doctor said that was to be expected and my progress looked good to him.
Have I mentioned how glad I am to be home? As enjoyable as my trip to Hawaii ended up being, there's just no place like home. It's chillier here, even on a nice day like today, and it's supposed to get stormy tomorrow; and the water is colder and muddier. But it's home, by golly.
I was determined to make it up today, and as it turned out today was an even better day: sunny again, a high temperature near 70 degrees, and much less windy. I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints, and then did a workout of eight 30-second sprints at three-minute intervals.
My cold symptoms seem to be running their course. I'm still somewhat congested and my throat feels a bit raw, but it's not too bad. I also paid a follow-up visit to the orthopedist today regarding my foot, which continues to feel much better even though I'm not sure it's a hundred percent cured. The doctor said that was to be expected and my progress looked good to him.
Have I mentioned how glad I am to be home? As enjoyable as my trip to Hawaii ended up being, there's just no place like home. It's chillier here, even on a nice day like today, and it's supposed to get stormy tomorrow; and the water is colder and muddier. But it's home, by golly.
Monday photo feature
Last week I borrowed my cousin's Go Pro camera to get some shots out on the water around Oahu.
I actually own a Go Pro camera myself, but I haven't used it in several years. I think the reason is the incredible glut of Go Pro videos posted on You Tube and shared on social media: every now and then I find a video worth watching, because it was shot in a locale I'm fascinated with or was shot in a race I'm interested in; but most of them seem utterly mediocre and forgettable to me, and I just don't want to be That Guy.
But I used my cousin's camera to shoot still photos--you can set a Go Pro to take a picture every minute, or every 30 seconds, or every ten seconds, or even every two seconds--and I like some of the results. It's making me consider breaking my own Go Pro out again soon. Of course, the beauty of digital photography is that you can delete all the many lame photos you're certain to end up with, and hold onto a handful of gems.
The photo above shows me paddling on Kaneohe Bay on the east side of Oahu last Tuesday. The Go Pro's wide-angle lens does a nice job of capturing the surrounding landscape.
Saturday, February 27, 2016
Re-contiguating myself
I really had to drag myself down to the river this morning.
I'm having sort of a rough transition out of vacation and back into everyday life. The trip home was an overnight ultra marathon during which I tried in vain to get a bit of sleep on the plane. The round trip involved six flights, and on five of those I was in a middle seat on planes that were packed to the rafters. I finally got a break on the last leg, from Atlanta to Memphis, when I found myself with two seats to myself. That flight was less than 90 minutes; such a situation on a longer flight would have been nice.
On top of the grueling journey across four time zones, I arrived home with a cold that I must have caught from my cousin's kids. So I've spent the last two days trying to get my body back on Central Time and medicating myself with over-the-counter cold remedies. My brain continues to function in a dense fog.
That's the state I was in when I got in the boat today. My body felt fine during an easy 40-minute session, but my mind was anything but sharp. I tried to focus on all the components of a good stroke and keep all muscle groups moving in perfect synchronization. Even though it didn't feel like much of a workout, I think it did me some good to go out and get some blood moving in those muscles.
Actually, my body feels quite good aside from the virus and the circadian wackiness. My foot seems to have survived several arduous day hikes and a lot of street walking pretty well, and my back and shoulder and everything else are free of pain at the moment. With my first race of the season now just three weeks away, that's encouraging. Hopefully I can kick this bug soon and get in several good workouts in the next couple of weeks.
I'm having sort of a rough transition out of vacation and back into everyday life. The trip home was an overnight ultra marathon during which I tried in vain to get a bit of sleep on the plane. The round trip involved six flights, and on five of those I was in a middle seat on planes that were packed to the rafters. I finally got a break on the last leg, from Atlanta to Memphis, when I found myself with two seats to myself. That flight was less than 90 minutes; such a situation on a longer flight would have been nice.
On top of the grueling journey across four time zones, I arrived home with a cold that I must have caught from my cousin's kids. So I've spent the last two days trying to get my body back on Central Time and medicating myself with over-the-counter cold remedies. My brain continues to function in a dense fog.
That's the state I was in when I got in the boat today. My body felt fine during an easy 40-minute session, but my mind was anything but sharp. I tried to focus on all the components of a good stroke and keep all muscle groups moving in perfect synchronization. Even though it didn't feel like much of a workout, I think it did me some good to go out and get some blood moving in those muscles.
Actually, my body feels quite good aside from the virus and the circadian wackiness. My foot seems to have survived several arduous day hikes and a lot of street walking pretty well, and my back and shoulder and everything else are free of pain at the moment. With my first race of the season now just three weeks away, that's encouraging. Hopefully I can kick this bug soon and get in several good workouts in the next couple of weeks.
Tuesday, February 23, 2016
Swan song
Today was my last full day in Hawaii, and I headed up to a part of Oahu where I hadn't paddled yet: Kaneohe Bay, over on the east side. Even though the surf was reportedly quite rough elsewhere on the island, Kaneohe Bay was quite calm.
I put in at a park near the junction of highways 83 and 803, and paddled toward Mokoli'i Island, the little bit of rock just right of my bow:
This island is nicknamed "Chinaman's Hat" for its resemblance of one of those ubiquitous straw hats worn in eastern Asia.
The water was starting to get rough with many breaking waves, so I turned toward shore and did some surfing. Once I ran out of room I began the journey back to my putin. Elapsed time in the boat was just over 80 minutes. I believe Oahu has some of the most dramatic shoreline I have visited:
I took the boat back to Zsolt this afternoon. I was sorry to have done my last paddling here, but it was a relief to return the boat undamaged.
Tomorrow I fly out of Honolulu International at about 1:30 local time. I'm scheduled to arrive in Memphis Thursday morning.
I put in at a park near the junction of highways 83 and 803, and paddled toward Mokoli'i Island, the little bit of rock just right of my bow:
This island is nicknamed "Chinaman's Hat" for its resemblance of one of those ubiquitous straw hats worn in eastern Asia.
The water was starting to get rough with many breaking waves, so I turned toward shore and did some surfing. Once I ran out of room I began the journey back to my putin. Elapsed time in the boat was just over 80 minutes. I believe Oahu has some of the most dramatic shoreline I have visited:
I took the boat back to Zsolt this afternoon. I was sorry to have done my last paddling here, but it was a relief to return the boat undamaged.
Tomorrow I fly out of Honolulu International at about 1:30 local time. I'm scheduled to arrive in Memphis Thursday morning.
Monday, February 22, 2016
Busy day
The first task this morning was to do the February strength routine. I went back to Ke'ehi Lagoon, easy to get to from my cousin's house, and did it in my favorite exercise spot in the pavilion there.
Then I headed over to the east side of Oahu, where I hoped to paddle and maybe visit one of the little islands just offshore. But the surf and the shore break were rougher than I really wanted to deal with. So I drove down along Oahu's southeastern corner until I found a decent place to put in: Maunalua Bay by the town of Hawaii Kai, known to surf ski racers as the finish for the annual Molokai world championships.
I borrowed my cousin's Go Pro camera today, hoping to rectify my lack of good photos from out on the water. I thought I was setting it to take still photos at regular intervals, but later on when I looked at the disk's contents on a computer screen, I found that all I had was thirty-plus copies of this photo of me pushing the camera's "start" button:
Ke'ehi Lagoon, site of the Hawaii high school outrigger championships back on February 6. The pavilion I like to work out in is at right.
Then I headed over to the east side of Oahu, where I hoped to paddle and maybe visit one of the little islands just offshore. But the surf and the shore break were rougher than I really wanted to deal with. So I drove down along Oahu's southeastern corner until I found a decent place to put in: Maunalua Bay by the town of Hawaii Kai, known to surf ski racers as the finish for the annual Molokai world championships.
I borrowed my cousin's Go Pro camera today, hoping to rectify my lack of good photos from out on the water. I thought I was setting it to take still photos at regular intervals, but later on when I looked at the disk's contents on a computer screen, I found that all I had was thirty-plus copies of this photo of me pushing the camera's "start" button:
Oh well... I'll try again tomorrow.
I paddled out toward the eastern side of the big bay, where the China Wall gets hammered by the surf. This spot is also well known because the Molokai course runs right along this cliff, forcing racers exhausted from the Molokai-to-Oahu crossing to negotiate a maelstrom of rough water just a few thousand meters from the finish. I didn't get very close to the wall today, but I found some awfully confused water in the general area just the same. I tried to concentrate and keep my boat moving in the unstable conditions, but I had to stop and brace fairly often.
I turned my boat toward the other end of the bay, where the Diamond Head crater stands. Pretty soon I found myself paddling into much more regular waves and had little trouble with balance from then on. For the last leg of the session I paddled back toward my put-in spot with a following sea. I got occasional little rides but nothing memorable. All told I got a worthwhile 80 minutes of paddling in.
My last order of business today was to hike up Koko Head. A long staircase--actually an old incline track--leads up the west side of the mountain:
The hike took me about 30 minutes, and it was tiring but not at all the hardest hike I've ever done. Once on top I took a photo of Maunalua Bay, where I had just paddled:
That's Diamond Head over in the right side of the photo. The town of Hawaii Kai lies in the foreground. The actual finish line of the Molokai world championships is in the little protected harbor in the bottom right corner.
Monday photo feature
I apologize for not posting more photos of my time on Oahu. I've actually snapped numerous photos as I've explored here and there, but not many that are relevant to a canoe and kayak racing blog. The photo above is a not-quite-in-focus selfie I took while getting ready to paddle near Kaena Point on Friday. Note the sparse vegetation on the hillside along Oahu's semi-arid leeward coast.
As a consolation for my lack of photo sharing, I give you this shot of my first cousin once-removed James demonstrating proper shaved-ice-eating form:
Sunday, February 21, 2016
I'm out of the loop here
Yesterday I decided to head for Kailua Beach, a popular spot on the windward side of Oahu. But first I wanted to do the February strength routine, and since the pavilion at Ke'ehi Lagoon Beach Park had been a good workout spot on Thursday, I went back there to exercise again.
After that I hopped on the Pali Highway bound for Kailua, and when I got to the beach there I found a canoe and kayak race in progress. It was sort of a rinky-dink affair that might happen every Saturday morning here: a triangular course that went a short distance offshore and was no longer than maybe 2000 meters or so; multiple heats for a variety of age groups and boat classes; lots of kids in attendance for whom socializing on the beach was just as much fun as the racing.
I was kicking myself for not finding out about this or any other races ahead of time. I came to Hawaii mostly just wanting a little vacation and a chance to do some training in warm weather, but a laid back 2000-meter sort of event would have been perfect for me at this early moment in the season. Alas, the surf ski classes were finishing up right as I got there.
Oh well. I paddled out onto the course and worked on my balance in the swells. There were actually some decent waves coming back in toward the beach, and I got several sweet rides. The rides weren't easy to get because the waves were far apart: I really had to throw in a sprint the moment I felt my stern lifting. That made the rides I did get very satisfying. It would have been fun to catch one while coming in to the finish line of a race.
Back on the beach it was nice to see a whole bunch of surf skis just like mine:
After that I hopped on the Pali Highway bound for Kailua, and when I got to the beach there I found a canoe and kayak race in progress. It was sort of a rinky-dink affair that might happen every Saturday morning here: a triangular course that went a short distance offshore and was no longer than maybe 2000 meters or so; multiple heats for a variety of age groups and boat classes; lots of kids in attendance for whom socializing on the beach was just as much fun as the racing.
I was kicking myself for not finding out about this or any other races ahead of time. I came to Hawaii mostly just wanting a little vacation and a chance to do some training in warm weather, but a laid back 2000-meter sort of event would have been perfect for me at this early moment in the season. Alas, the surf ski classes were finishing up right as I got there.
Oh well. I paddled out onto the course and worked on my balance in the swells. There were actually some decent waves coming back in toward the beach, and I got several sweet rides. The rides weren't easy to get because the waves were far apart: I really had to throw in a sprint the moment I felt my stern lifting. That made the rides I did get very satisfying. It would have been fun to catch one while coming in to the finish line of a race.
Back on the beach it was nice to see a whole bunch of surf skis just like mine:
Saturday, February 20, 2016
A change in landscape
I've mentioned before that my cousin here in Hawaii is a colonel in the United States Army. He works at a facility on a ridge top in the Koolau foothills, but his family lives in a comfy little condo down on the Hickam Field portion of Joint Base Pearl Harbor Hickam. It's been a nice base of operations for me during my vacation in the Aloha State.
For most of this past week, my routine was to go out and paddle in the morning and do some kind of sightseeing in the afternoon. Besides a trip to Haleiwa on Tuesday, I didn't venture that far from JBPHH and the southern portions of Oahu. I didn't have to leave the base to paddle in Hickam Harbor on Wednesday, and Ke'ehi Lagoon is a short distance to the east, on the other side of Honolulu International Airport.
Yesterday I decided to go a bit farther afield. I drove up along the western coast of Oahu, commonly known as "Leeward Oahu" because it's in the lee of the prevailing northeast winds. Because the Koolau and Waianae Ranges block the moisture that these winds carry, Leeward Oahu is much drier than Windward Oahu, and its slopes lack the lush forests common over on the eastern side of the island.
Leeward Oahu for some reason does not attract tourists the way the rest of the island does, and the coast has much more of a local small-town feel. In places it's even a bit seedy, and as I drove through the town of Waianae I thought I'd found the Hawaii version of Memphis's Summer Avenue.
I finally found the place I wanted to paddle when I came to Yokohama Beach near the northernmost point of Leeward Oahu. I put my boat in the water and started paddling toward Kaena Point, a sharp peninsula that forms sort of a "northwest corner" of the island of Oahu. The closer I got to the point, the more I could feel the northeast wind and the more I could see some downwind runs moving from right to left. Soon I found myself among some large swells with long periods: the water I was on wasn't rough, but I had the sensation of paddling up an incline toward a distant ridge top.
I finally decided it was time to turn around and try my luck with some downwind surfing. There weren't really any waves I could just sit on all day long, but there were all kinds of little bumps that I got brief rides on. I had fun sprinting after each one and seeing what would happen.
The waves were moving at a slight angle away from the shoreline, and it wasn't long before I realized that I was getting pretty far offshore. So I tore myself away from the surfing and started angling back. I was never in any doubt that I would make it, but it took what felt like an awfully long time to make progress back to where the car was parked.
The skies were overcast for most of my time on the water, but as I approached the beach the sun started finding gaps in the clouds and illuminated the deep, clear blue seawater beneath my boat. Paddling water so clear is a novel experience for a guy who spends most of his time on the Mississippi River, and once my boat was back on the beach I just had to dive back in and swim for a few minutes.
For most of this past week, my routine was to go out and paddle in the morning and do some kind of sightseeing in the afternoon. Besides a trip to Haleiwa on Tuesday, I didn't venture that far from JBPHH and the southern portions of Oahu. I didn't have to leave the base to paddle in Hickam Harbor on Wednesday, and Ke'ehi Lagoon is a short distance to the east, on the other side of Honolulu International Airport.
Yesterday I decided to go a bit farther afield. I drove up along the western coast of Oahu, commonly known as "Leeward Oahu" because it's in the lee of the prevailing northeast winds. Because the Koolau and Waianae Ranges block the moisture that these winds carry, Leeward Oahu is much drier than Windward Oahu, and its slopes lack the lush forests common over on the eastern side of the island.
Leeward Oahu for some reason does not attract tourists the way the rest of the island does, and the coast has much more of a local small-town feel. In places it's even a bit seedy, and as I drove through the town of Waianae I thought I'd found the Hawaii version of Memphis's Summer Avenue.
I finally found the place I wanted to paddle when I came to Yokohama Beach near the northernmost point of Leeward Oahu. I put my boat in the water and started paddling toward Kaena Point, a sharp peninsula that forms sort of a "northwest corner" of the island of Oahu. The closer I got to the point, the more I could feel the northeast wind and the more I could see some downwind runs moving from right to left. Soon I found myself among some large swells with long periods: the water I was on wasn't rough, but I had the sensation of paddling up an incline toward a distant ridge top.
I finally decided it was time to turn around and try my luck with some downwind surfing. There weren't really any waves I could just sit on all day long, but there were all kinds of little bumps that I got brief rides on. I had fun sprinting after each one and seeing what would happen.
The waves were moving at a slight angle away from the shoreline, and it wasn't long before I realized that I was getting pretty far offshore. So I tore myself away from the surfing and started angling back. I was never in any doubt that I would make it, but it took what felt like an awfully long time to make progress back to where the car was parked.
The skies were overcast for most of my time on the water, but as I approached the beach the sun started finding gaps in the clouds and illuminated the deep, clear blue seawater beneath my boat. Paddling water so clear is a novel experience for a guy who spends most of his time on the Mississippi River, and once my boat was back on the beach I just had to dive back in and swim for a few minutes.
Friday, February 19, 2016
Paddling in a reputed paradise
I've checked the forecast for Memphis and it looks like they'll be having Fahrenheit highs in the 60s for the rest of the time I'm in Hawaii. Hmm... should I ask for my money back? At least the water here in Hawaii is a lot warmer than the Mississippi at this time of year.
Hawaii is certainly a beautiful and fascinating place, very different from any other place I've ever been. But mainland Americans like me are led to believe in a certain stylized version of it that's not entirely accurate. You know what I'm talking about: you picture yourself whiling the day away in a hammock between two palm trees, sipping the milk from a coconut through a straw, the entire landscape bathed in sunshine, a gentle ocean breeze caressing your skin...
I'm told that in fact the weather here is often like that during the summer months, but right now it's rather unsettled. At just about any moment it's raining somewhere on Oahu, especially up along the Koolau Range. And the wind from the northeast is pretty persistent. This week we've had stronger winds than normal, according to my cousin; but I think 10-15 miles per hour is pretty standard. And while the air temperature is generally pleasant, it's not always quite warm: at this time of year, the highs average around 78 or 80 degrees Fahrenheit. I don't find myself yearning for a swim in the ocean until it hits the mid 80s or higher.
But... that's okay. All that matters is that the weather is not bad, and there are all kinds of fascinating things to occupy my attention.
A really, really cool thing about Hawaii is (a) outrigger canoe racing is an official high school sport here, and (b) it's on TV! The 2016 state championships took place on February 6 on Ke'ehi Lagoon, and my cousin recorded the telecast of it so that we could watch it during my visit. Athletes competed in OC-6 for state titles in girls, boys, and mixed. Kamehameha Schools of Kapalama claimed the girls title; Punahou was the winning boys' boat; and Seabury Hall won the mixed title. It was fun to see the teamwork and camaraderie among the athletes as they pursued excellence in a craft that's been practiced in this part of the world for thousands of years.
As for my own paddling, my biggest nemesis so far has been adjusting to the change in time zone: Hawaii is four hours behind Central Time. Wednesday morning I was feeling particularly sluggish and unenthusiastic as I paddled in Hickam Harbor. The wind was really blowing and I was skittish about venturing far from shore. I'd planned to paddle for 80 minutes, but ended up quitting after 50.
Yesterday morning I woke up feeling a bit groggy again, and my whole body felt stiff as a board. I drove over to Ke'ehi Lagoon, where the outrigger championships had taken place, and did a long, slow round of stretching and warming up before doing the February strength routine in the park pavilion there. The short power-oriented exercises seemed to give me a jump-start. By the time I was putting my boat in the water I felt awake and enthusiastic again, and I eagerly paddled out onto the lagoon to see what I might see on the way out to the Pacific.
Mind you, I didn't paddle entirely like a champ. Once I was out on the open ocean I found the water choppy and confused, not really the clean downwind run that a surf ski paddler craves, and my paddling felt tentative at times. Paddling by myself in a borrowed boat doesn't exactly inspire fearlessness in me. I could tell the wind was starting to pick up as I headed over toward Waikiki, so I turned back and looked for the channel marker that would lead me back into the lagoon.
All told, I was satisfied with the session and just happy to be in an interesting place for a while. As I paddled across the high school championships course back to the beach, I tried to treat it with the reverence it deserves.
Hawaii is certainly a beautiful and fascinating place, very different from any other place I've ever been. But mainland Americans like me are led to believe in a certain stylized version of it that's not entirely accurate. You know what I'm talking about: you picture yourself whiling the day away in a hammock between two palm trees, sipping the milk from a coconut through a straw, the entire landscape bathed in sunshine, a gentle ocean breeze caressing your skin...
I'm told that in fact the weather here is often like that during the summer months, but right now it's rather unsettled. At just about any moment it's raining somewhere on Oahu, especially up along the Koolau Range. And the wind from the northeast is pretty persistent. This week we've had stronger winds than normal, according to my cousin; but I think 10-15 miles per hour is pretty standard. And while the air temperature is generally pleasant, it's not always quite warm: at this time of year, the highs average around 78 or 80 degrees Fahrenheit. I don't find myself yearning for a swim in the ocean until it hits the mid 80s or higher.
But... that's okay. All that matters is that the weather is not bad, and there are all kinds of fascinating things to occupy my attention.
A really, really cool thing about Hawaii is (a) outrigger canoe racing is an official high school sport here, and (b) it's on TV! The 2016 state championships took place on February 6 on Ke'ehi Lagoon, and my cousin recorded the telecast of it so that we could watch it during my visit. Athletes competed in OC-6 for state titles in girls, boys, and mixed. Kamehameha Schools of Kapalama claimed the girls title; Punahou was the winning boys' boat; and Seabury Hall won the mixed title. It was fun to see the teamwork and camaraderie among the athletes as they pursued excellence in a craft that's been practiced in this part of the world for thousands of years.
As for my own paddling, my biggest nemesis so far has been adjusting to the change in time zone: Hawaii is four hours behind Central Time. Wednesday morning I was feeling particularly sluggish and unenthusiastic as I paddled in Hickam Harbor. The wind was really blowing and I was skittish about venturing far from shore. I'd planned to paddle for 80 minutes, but ended up quitting after 50.
Yesterday morning I woke up feeling a bit groggy again, and my whole body felt stiff as a board. I drove over to Ke'ehi Lagoon, where the outrigger championships had taken place, and did a long, slow round of stretching and warming up before doing the February strength routine in the park pavilion there. The short power-oriented exercises seemed to give me a jump-start. By the time I was putting my boat in the water I felt awake and enthusiastic again, and I eagerly paddled out onto the lagoon to see what I might see on the way out to the Pacific.
Mind you, I didn't paddle entirely like a champ. Once I was out on the open ocean I found the water choppy and confused, not really the clean downwind run that a surf ski paddler craves, and my paddling felt tentative at times. Paddling by myself in a borrowed boat doesn't exactly inspire fearlessness in me. I could tell the wind was starting to pick up as I headed over toward Waikiki, so I turned back and looked for the channel marker that would lead me back into the lagoon.
All told, I was satisfied with the session and just happy to be in an interesting place for a while. As I paddled across the high school championships course back to the beach, I tried to treat it with the reverence it deserves.
Tuesday, February 16, 2016
Starting to settle in
I spent yesterday recovering from the traveling and getting familiar with my surroundings. The kids were out of school for the Presidents Day holiday, so my cousin's family and I spent the afternoon driving around the southeastern portion of Oahu, beholding some of the majestic beauty of this most unique archipelago.
This morning I did the February strength routine, and then spent several hours checking out part of Oahu's north shore. I visited the town of Hale'iwa, the reputed surfing capital of the world.
In the late afternoon I met Epic Kayaks representative Zsolt Szadovszki to pick up my rental boat, a V-10L. My boat at home is a V-12, but I'm considering a V-10L for my next boat purchase and am taking this opportunity to paddle one for a few days. I met Zsolt next to the Ala Wai Canal near Waikiki Beach, and once I had the boat I did a 60 minute paddle in the canal. I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints, and then just paddled around trying to get used to the boat. So far I like it.
This morning I did the February strength routine, and then spent several hours checking out part of Oahu's north shore. I visited the town of Hale'iwa, the reputed surfing capital of the world.
In the late afternoon I met Epic Kayaks representative Zsolt Szadovszki to pick up my rental boat, a V-10L. My boat at home is a V-12, but I'm considering a V-10L for my next boat purchase and am taking this opportunity to paddle one for a few days. I met Zsolt next to the Ala Wai Canal near Waikiki Beach, and once I had the boat I did a 60 minute paddle in the canal. I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints, and then just paddled around trying to get used to the boat. So far I like it.
Monday, February 15, 2016
Monday photo feature
I spent all day yesterday traveling from Memphis to Atlanta to Seattle to Honolulu, and the experience was a grisly reminder of how much I despise air travel.
As I got off the plane in Honolulu, I expected to be presented with a lei just like in all those 70s TV shows whenever people like Starsky & Hutch made a trip to Hawaii. But apparently they don't do that anymore, maybe because a trip to Hawaii is no longer the sort of once-in-a-lifetime luxury it was back then.
But my cousin Jimmy and his family saved the day! When I arrived at baggage claim, there were Leah and James to give me hugs and hang a flowery wreath around my neck. This trip just might be a success after all. Photo by Jimmy Matthews.
Saturday, February 13, 2016
Ready to go someplace warm
When I got down to the river on Thursday it was some ten degrees warmer than it had been on Tuesday and, more importantly, there was plenty of sunshine and the wind wasn't so bad. I warmed up with fifteen minutes of paddling toward the north end of the harbor, and did three 8-stroke sprints at two-minute intervals. Coming back south I did a couple of surges of maybe two minutes each, and they felt hard... I was bit tired, I guess. When I got back to the marina Joe had just gotten in his boat, and he joined me for another trip up to the north end of the harbor. When we returned to the marina Joe continued toward the south end of the harbor while I took out at the dock.
Yesterday I did another round of the February strength routine. Because this routine is so brief I'm doing three sets. I'm starting to get the hang of the exercises, even those "Rolling squat burpees," though I'm probably not doing them as well as the guy in the video yet. "Hannibal pushups" is the one I'm having the hardest time doing like the guy in the video does.
Today winter got one last shot at me before I escape to the tropics for a few days. A blast of Arctic air moved in last night, and as I pulled into a parking space at the marina this morning the temperature display in my car's dashboard read 30 degrees Fahrenheit. The sky was largely overcast, and the north wind, though not too bad, was bad enough for me to bury my chin down in my coat collar as I walked down the ramp to the dock.
I broke out my fleece-lined pogies for the first time this year--and maybe the last time, unless we have an unusually cold month of March. Most of the winter I use my unlined pogies, only getting out the fleece-lined ones when it's below freezing outside.
As I headed down the ramp I realized I'd made a grave mistake: I'd forgotten to throw my paddle jacket in my bag. Even the heavyweight fleece shirt I had wouldn't be enough on its own, and I briefly considered going all the way back home to get the jacket. But then I figured that the winter coat I was wearing, an "active-wear" sort of thing--fleece lining, nylon shell--would probably work. To the dock and into the boat I went.
As it turned out, I was hot after the first ten minutes of paddling. The sun came out shortly after I left the dock, and the fleece-lined coat on top of the heavyweight fleece was a bit much. I probably didn't need the fleece-lined pogies, either. But I'm used to sweaty summer days here, so a sweaty winter day wasn't going to kill me.
After warming up and doing three 8-stroke sprints, I did a couple of hard pieces of about eight minutes each, with five minutes or so of rest in between. Then I timed myself from the A.W. Willis bridge to the Hernando DeSoto Bridge. My best time over this distance is a little under three minutes; today I did it in about 3:16, which I think was pretty good considering how tired I was from the longer pieces.
If all goes according to plan, my next time in the boat will be in the Hawaiian Islands. Tomorrow I'll be sitting in airports and airplanes all day, and I'll probably spend Monday just getting acclimated, so maybe by Tuesday I'll be ready to paddle. I'll post updates here as circumstances allow.
Yesterday I did another round of the February strength routine. Because this routine is so brief I'm doing three sets. I'm starting to get the hang of the exercises, even those "Rolling squat burpees," though I'm probably not doing them as well as the guy in the video yet. "Hannibal pushups" is the one I'm having the hardest time doing like the guy in the video does.
Today winter got one last shot at me before I escape to the tropics for a few days. A blast of Arctic air moved in last night, and as I pulled into a parking space at the marina this morning the temperature display in my car's dashboard read 30 degrees Fahrenheit. The sky was largely overcast, and the north wind, though not too bad, was bad enough for me to bury my chin down in my coat collar as I walked down the ramp to the dock.
I broke out my fleece-lined pogies for the first time this year--and maybe the last time, unless we have an unusually cold month of March. Most of the winter I use my unlined pogies, only getting out the fleece-lined ones when it's below freezing outside.
As I headed down the ramp I realized I'd made a grave mistake: I'd forgotten to throw my paddle jacket in my bag. Even the heavyweight fleece shirt I had wouldn't be enough on its own, and I briefly considered going all the way back home to get the jacket. But then I figured that the winter coat I was wearing, an "active-wear" sort of thing--fleece lining, nylon shell--would probably work. To the dock and into the boat I went.
As it turned out, I was hot after the first ten minutes of paddling. The sun came out shortly after I left the dock, and the fleece-lined coat on top of the heavyweight fleece was a bit much. I probably didn't need the fleece-lined pogies, either. But I'm used to sweaty summer days here, so a sweaty winter day wasn't going to kill me.
After warming up and doing three 8-stroke sprints, I did a couple of hard pieces of about eight minutes each, with five minutes or so of rest in between. Then I timed myself from the A.W. Willis bridge to the Hernando DeSoto Bridge. My best time over this distance is a little under three minutes; today I did it in about 3:16, which I think was pretty good considering how tired I was from the longer pieces.
If all goes according to plan, my next time in the boat will be in the Hawaiian Islands. Tomorrow I'll be sitting in airports and airplanes all day, and I'll probably spend Monday just getting acclimated, so maybe by Tuesday I'll be ready to paddle. I'll post updates here as circumstances allow.
Tuesday, February 9, 2016
Brrrrr
The mild weekend is over and we're back to the sort of weather I associate with the month of February. When I got down to the river today the temperature was in the mid-30s Fahrenheit and a wicked-cold wind was howling out of the northwest. There was some blue sky up among the clouds but not much sunshine was getting through.
I've remarked numerous times in the past that the hardest part of paddling on such an unpleasant day is getting yourself down to the dock in the first place. Once you're in the boat you'll probably feel fine as long as you're properly dressed. So it was with Joe and me as we paddled away from the marina toward the north end of the harbor. Knowing that very soon I will be getting "a nice Hawaiian punch" didn't hurt, either.
As we paddled north we enjoyed some protection from the trees that line the banks up in that end of the harbor. Coming back south, we had the wind mostly at our backs. The hardest leg of today's paddle was coming from the harbor's mouth back to the marina: the harbor isn't nearly as protected from a north wind in its southern half as in its northern half. I was good and chilled by the time we got back to the dock, and I spent the rest of the day trying to thaw out.
I've remarked numerous times in the past that the hardest part of paddling on such an unpleasant day is getting yourself down to the dock in the first place. Once you're in the boat you'll probably feel fine as long as you're properly dressed. So it was with Joe and me as we paddled away from the marina toward the north end of the harbor. Knowing that very soon I will be getting "a nice Hawaiian punch" didn't hurt, either.
As we paddled north we enjoyed some protection from the trees that line the banks up in that end of the harbor. Coming back south, we had the wind mostly at our backs. The hardest leg of today's paddle was coming from the harbor's mouth back to the marina: the harbor isn't nearly as protected from a north wind in its southern half as in its northern half. I was good and chilled by the time we got back to the dock, and I spent the rest of the day trying to thaw out.
Monday, February 8, 2016
Monday photo feature
A team from New Zealand competes in the Molokai Hoe outrigger canoe race, a crossing of the channel between the islands of Molokai and Oahu, in 2010. Photo lifted from the website newswire.co.nz.
I don't know if I'll be paddling the high seas like this during my stay in Hawaii; frankly, I'll be happy if I can get a few workouts in and enjoy the sights on less-exposed bodies of water. But you never know.
Sunday, February 7, 2016
Availing myself of a lovely day
I paddled for 80 minutes this morning. After warming up for the first 15 minutes, I did my three 8-stroke sprints. I haven't said it lately, but I do these sprints at two-minute intervals; that's enough recovery time for me to go totally all-out on each sprint.
Sometimes these sprints feel as fluid and smooth as can be; other times, like today, they feel a bit forced and sloppy. The goal is to do them with the same precise form I use while paddling at lower intensity, with legs, abs, shoulders, and arms all firing in unison. My first sprint was the worst one this morning; I did a bit better on the second and third.
Today we're enjoying another mild sunny day in the Mid South, with the temperature expected to reach the high 50s Fahrenheit. Of course, we've got a saying around here that goes "If you don't like the weather here, just wait a while," and in keeping with that it's going to be colder and grayer for the next several days. That'll get me all the more ready for my trip to our nation's 50th state next Sunday.
This nice weather, combined with a river level (20.1 feet on the Memphis gauge) that has all the Corps of Engineers' wing dikes well under water, motivated me to ferry across the river and check out some of the lovely scenery on the Arkansas side. The Loosahatchie Chute separates the Loosahatchie Bar from the mainland a couple of miles upstream of the Hernando DeSoto Bridge, and once I'm up above the bridge paddling north, all I see is water flowing between forested banks. It's lush and green in the summertime, of course, but I like it in winter, too, when the leafless trees give off a bronze hue in the sunlight.
Sometimes these sprints feel as fluid and smooth as can be; other times, like today, they feel a bit forced and sloppy. The goal is to do them with the same precise form I use while paddling at lower intensity, with legs, abs, shoulders, and arms all firing in unison. My first sprint was the worst one this morning; I did a bit better on the second and third.
Today we're enjoying another mild sunny day in the Mid South, with the temperature expected to reach the high 50s Fahrenheit. Of course, we've got a saying around here that goes "If you don't like the weather here, just wait a while," and in keeping with that it's going to be colder and grayer for the next several days. That'll get me all the more ready for my trip to our nation's 50th state next Sunday.
This nice weather, combined with a river level (20.1 feet on the Memphis gauge) that has all the Corps of Engineers' wing dikes well under water, motivated me to ferry across the river and check out some of the lovely scenery on the Arkansas side. The Loosahatchie Chute separates the Loosahatchie Bar from the mainland a couple of miles upstream of the Hernando DeSoto Bridge, and once I'm up above the bridge paddling north, all I see is water flowing between forested banks. It's lush and green in the summertime, of course, but I like it in winter, too, when the leafless trees give off a bronze hue in the sunlight.
Saturday, February 6, 2016
Power and paddling
It got cold midweek, but today we had a high in the 50s Fahrenheit with partly sunny skies. I paddled Thursday in a brisk north wind, but today it was almost dead calm and I was plenty warm in the boat. Today's 80-minute session took me down below the Frisco Bridge, back upriver along the Arkansas bank above the Hernando DeSoto Bridge, and then back to the harbor. After warming up and doing three 8-stroke sprints, I paddled a quick cruising pace with several long surges.
Yesterday I did the February strength routine again, and I'm still getting used to the more complex movements, notably the "rolling squat burpee." It takes quite a burst of power right at the beginning to get myself on my feet and over into the pushup position. Because all the exercises, besides maybe the "super crunches," emphasize bursts of power, they are low-rep affairs. Power isn't something you can build with endless repetition.
I hope that doing these exercises that involve exerting power while in awkward positions will translate into some paddling success: canoe and kayak racing, after all, requires the application of power on a paddle blade while balancing in a tippy race boat. Many of the strength routines I've done included exercises that I could barely pull off at first but had much better command of by the end of the month, and that gives me some hope that I can improve what I do in the boat, too.
Of course, there are in-the-boat power-building drills one can do, and I'll talk more about that soon.
Yesterday I did the February strength routine again, and I'm still getting used to the more complex movements, notably the "rolling squat burpee." It takes quite a burst of power right at the beginning to get myself on my feet and over into the pushup position. Because all the exercises, besides maybe the "super crunches," emphasize bursts of power, they are low-rep affairs. Power isn't something you can build with endless repetition.
I hope that doing these exercises that involve exerting power while in awkward positions will translate into some paddling success: canoe and kayak racing, after all, requires the application of power on a paddle blade while balancing in a tippy race boat. Many of the strength routines I've done included exercises that I could barely pull off at first but had much better command of by the end of the month, and that gives me some hope that I can improve what I do in the boat, too.
Of course, there are in-the-boat power-building drills one can do, and I'll talk more about that soon.
Friday, February 5, 2016
Mending body and spirit
Back on January 17 I mentioned some aches and pains. Basically, the entire right side of my body seemed out of whack. My right foot hurt up in the arch; my right hamstring was tight and sore; my right hip and the right side of my lower back ached; and my right shoulder, right in the front, felt weak and sore.
I had a strong suspicion that the hamstring and hip ailments were the result of limping around on my hurting foot. I don't know how a bum foot would affect my shoulder, but who knows? In any case, I finally decided it was time to seek professional help with the foot, and I made an appointment with an orthopedist last Friday, the 29th of January.
The doctor told me it looked like a textbook case of plantar fasciitis, and he prescribed his standard treatment regimen for this common overuse injury. I would be taking an oral anti-inflammatory, doing a few specialized stretching and massage exercises, and wearing this splint while I slept at night:
I was a bit dubious about the splint as soon as I put it on. It's not very tight-fitting, and I couldn't believe that wearing it overnight would make much difference. But lo and behold, it did. When I got out of bed the next morning, the pain was gone from the arch and replaced by some mild soreness in the lower calf and Achilles area. This latter bit made sense to me, as plantar fasciitis comes about when lower calf tightness causes more of the burden of standing and walking to be shifted down into the arch area. I knew I would have to keep stretching and massaging, but this simple splint was making most of the difference.
My foot has continued to feel much better in the week that has passed since my visit to the doctor, and perhaps as a result, the rest of my body is feeling better as well. Feeling better after weeks of feeling crummy has renewed my enthusiasm for doing all the little things that help keep an athlete feeling good: hydration, thorough stretching and warmup, and plenty of rest and good nutrition between workouts to facilitate recovery.
I had a strong suspicion that the hamstring and hip ailments were the result of limping around on my hurting foot. I don't know how a bum foot would affect my shoulder, but who knows? In any case, I finally decided it was time to seek professional help with the foot, and I made an appointment with an orthopedist last Friday, the 29th of January.
The doctor told me it looked like a textbook case of plantar fasciitis, and he prescribed his standard treatment regimen for this common overuse injury. I would be taking an oral anti-inflammatory, doing a few specialized stretching and massage exercises, and wearing this splint while I slept at night:
I was a bit dubious about the splint as soon as I put it on. It's not very tight-fitting, and I couldn't believe that wearing it overnight would make much difference. But lo and behold, it did. When I got out of bed the next morning, the pain was gone from the arch and replaced by some mild soreness in the lower calf and Achilles area. This latter bit made sense to me, as plantar fasciitis comes about when lower calf tightness causes more of the burden of standing and walking to be shifted down into the arch area. I knew I would have to keep stretching and massaging, but this simple splint was making most of the difference.
My foot has continued to feel much better in the week that has passed since my visit to the doctor, and perhaps as a result, the rest of my body is feeling better as well. Feeling better after weeks of feeling crummy has renewed my enthusiasm for doing all the little things that help keep an athlete feeling good: hydration, thorough stretching and warmup, and plenty of rest and good nutrition between workouts to facilitate recovery.
Wednesday, February 3, 2016
February strength routine
It's time for a new strength routine, and since I'll be traveling for a big chunk of this month I'm doing all body-weight exercises that require no equipment.
Last month's routine included a lot of exercises from this video featuring extreme kayak racer Michele Ramazza. This month I'm doing one exercise from this video: the "super crunches."
The rest of this month's routine comes from this video, posted on Face Book by slalom coach Ron Lugbill a few weeks ago:
The exercises here all focus on explosive movements to build power, and they are technically quite tricky. I'm spending the first few days of this month just learning them: I watch an exercise in the video, then I get down on the floor and try it myself, I see where I'm having difficulty, and I watch the video footage again to see how this athlete handles it. I hope that by the time I'm in Hawaii I'll have a good grasp on all of them.
In summary, here are the list of exercises I have chosen for this month:
1. Power plank-ups
2. Super crunches
3. Pendulum planks
4. Glute/ham single-leg plyo bridge
5. Hannibal pushups
6. Rolling squat burpee
Like last month's routine, this one keeps me in near-constant motion, and I like that.
Last month's routine included a lot of exercises from this video featuring extreme kayak racer Michele Ramazza. This month I'm doing one exercise from this video: the "super crunches."
The rest of this month's routine comes from this video, posted on Face Book by slalom coach Ron Lugbill a few weeks ago:
The exercises here all focus on explosive movements to build power, and they are technically quite tricky. I'm spending the first few days of this month just learning them: I watch an exercise in the video, then I get down on the floor and try it myself, I see where I'm having difficulty, and I watch the video footage again to see how this athlete handles it. I hope that by the time I'm in Hawaii I'll have a good grasp on all of them.
In summary, here are the list of exercises I have chosen for this month:
1. Power plank-ups
2. Super crunches
3. Pendulum planks
4. Glute/ham single-leg plyo bridge
5. Hannibal pushups
6. Rolling squat burpee
Like last month's routine, this one keeps me in near-constant motion, and I like that.
Catching up
I apologize for the break in posting. Sometimes life just gets in the way. I've been busy in my workshop as well as tending to some pet care. But fear not: the training continues. I've been paddling my boat four times a week and closing out the month of January with the strength routine.
Here in Memphis it was cold, then it got warm (and windy and wild), and now it's cold again. Such is winter in the Mid South. After getting a pair of chilly-day paddles in with Joe last week, I arrived at the riverfront on Saturday and Sunday amid balmy temperatures and the strongest wind from the south that I've seen in quite a long time. The water was still frigid, so in the interest of safety I stayed in the harbor both days.
On Saturday I paddled into the wind to the mouth (the south end) of the harbor, doing three 8-stroke sprints along the way. Then, coming back north with the wind at my back, I did eight 30-second sprints at three-minute intervals. The sprints were hard but felt fast and fun.
On Sunday the wind might have been even a bit stronger. Once again I paddled to the harbor's mouth and then, with the wind at my back, I did some not-so-structured play. The waves weren't quite big enough for true surfing, but I could get a little ride now and then for a few seconds at a time; when the wave gave out I would sprint ahead to the next wave. The best action was between the Hernando DeSoto and monorail bridges, where the harbor gets constricted between a marina on one side and a steep bank on the other, and the wind sort of tunnels.
By the time Joe and I met again yesterday, a front was moving in but the air was still warm. It was breezy and we got rained on a good bit, but the water wasn't really that rough. We put in a good 80-minute distance session.
Here in Memphis it was cold, then it got warm (and windy and wild), and now it's cold again. Such is winter in the Mid South. After getting a pair of chilly-day paddles in with Joe last week, I arrived at the riverfront on Saturday and Sunday amid balmy temperatures and the strongest wind from the south that I've seen in quite a long time. The water was still frigid, so in the interest of safety I stayed in the harbor both days.
On Saturday I paddled into the wind to the mouth (the south end) of the harbor, doing three 8-stroke sprints along the way. Then, coming back north with the wind at my back, I did eight 30-second sprints at three-minute intervals. The sprints were hard but felt fast and fun.
On Sunday the wind might have been even a bit stronger. Once again I paddled to the harbor's mouth and then, with the wind at my back, I did some not-so-structured play. The waves weren't quite big enough for true surfing, but I could get a little ride now and then for a few seconds at a time; when the wave gave out I would sprint ahead to the next wave. The best action was between the Hernando DeSoto and monorail bridges, where the harbor gets constricted between a marina on one side and a steep bank on the other, and the wind sort of tunnels.
By the time Joe and I met again yesterday, a front was moving in but the air was still warm. It was breezy and we got rained on a good bit, but the water wasn't really that rough. We put in a good 80-minute distance session.
Monday, January 25, 2016
Monday photo feature
Joe Royer shot this photo of me back in 2003, I think. The Greenbelt Park is covered in a lot more snow than we had here this past weekend. I for one am perfectly happy to have been passed over by Old Man Winter this time around.
Sunday, January 24, 2016
Coping with January
Roscoe Feild's funeral was scheduled for one o'clock on Thursday, so Joe and I got down to the river early to paddle for about 80 minutes. The big news of the day was the approaching snowstorm, and as we paddled we could detect the intensifying wind out of the north.
But Winter Storm Jonas let us off with little more than a dusting. When I woke up Friday morning there was a thin coat of snow and ice on the streets outside, and with a daytime high of about 36 degrees Fahrenheit the streets were completely clear by the end of the day.
So getting down to the river yesterday was no problem at all. But it still was not an especially nice day to paddle. The north wind continued to blow over ten miles per hour, and even though sunshine was predicted the sky was full of clouds at the time of day I was down there. I paddled for 40 minutes, staying in the northern half of the harbor where the wooded banks offer some protection from the wind. I did three 8-stroke sprints and some backpaddling, and otherwise tried to maintain a good strong tempo.
Today was much nicer: plenty of sun with a breeze from the south, and a Fahrenheit temperature that rose from the high 30s into the low 40s while I was down there. The river was the calmest I've seen it in quite a while, and I was tempted to ferry over to the Arkansas side and check out the drainage channel from Dacus Lake, which should be flowing heartily now that the river has dropped some 20 feet in the last couple of weeks. But on these winter days I try to stick a little closer to civilization in the interest of safety, and I resisted the impulse and paddled up to the mouth of the Wolf River instead.
I pushed the pace pretty hard up there, and my elapsed time from leaving the dock to arriving at the Wolf was about 47 minutes. I think the fastest I've ever done it is a bit under 45 minutes, but anything under 50 isn't bad. Wearing the same outfit I'd worn in colder temperatures all last week, I had worked up a major sweat by the time I got up there, paddling in the bright sunshine with the wind at my back. Even though I'd had my normal consumption of water since getting out of bed this morning, I felt a bit dehydrated. So I eased up on the intensity going back down to the harbor and up to the marina.
But Winter Storm Jonas let us off with little more than a dusting. When I woke up Friday morning there was a thin coat of snow and ice on the streets outside, and with a daytime high of about 36 degrees Fahrenheit the streets were completely clear by the end of the day.
So getting down to the river yesterday was no problem at all. But it still was not an especially nice day to paddle. The north wind continued to blow over ten miles per hour, and even though sunshine was predicted the sky was full of clouds at the time of day I was down there. I paddled for 40 minutes, staying in the northern half of the harbor where the wooded banks offer some protection from the wind. I did three 8-stroke sprints and some backpaddling, and otherwise tried to maintain a good strong tempo.
Today was much nicer: plenty of sun with a breeze from the south, and a Fahrenheit temperature that rose from the high 30s into the low 40s while I was down there. The river was the calmest I've seen it in quite a while, and I was tempted to ferry over to the Arkansas side and check out the drainage channel from Dacus Lake, which should be flowing heartily now that the river has dropped some 20 feet in the last couple of weeks. But on these winter days I try to stick a little closer to civilization in the interest of safety, and I resisted the impulse and paddled up to the mouth of the Wolf River instead.
I pushed the pace pretty hard up there, and my elapsed time from leaving the dock to arriving at the Wolf was about 47 minutes. I think the fastest I've ever done it is a bit under 45 minutes, but anything under 50 isn't bad. Wearing the same outfit I'd worn in colder temperatures all last week, I had worked up a major sweat by the time I got up there, paddling in the bright sunshine with the wind at my back. Even though I'd had my normal consumption of water since getting out of bed this morning, I felt a bit dehydrated. So I eased up on the intensity going back down to the harbor and up to the marina.
Thursday, January 21, 2016
In memoriam
When somebody asks me how long I've been paddling, I usually reply that I started in 1981 as a 13-year-old summer camper. The camp I attended in western North Carolina had a good-quality canoeing program that took us on beautiful Blue Ridge Mountain streams, and I became fascinated with the idea that I could move the boat anywhere I wanted with a simple repertoire of strokes in combination with the river's currents.
But it wouldn't really be wrong to trace my paddling history back some ten years earlier than that. During my childhood my family took trips to Hardy, Arkansas, as guests of my parents' close friends Roscoe and Jane Feild, who owned a cabin on Wahpeton Hill overlooking the Spring River just across from the town. In my first decade on this Earth there was no place more magical than Hardy. The Frisco Railroad ran right through town, and at that age I loved trains (I still do, for that matter). Traveling between the cabin and the town involved crossing a rusty old one-lane steel bridge that we kids thought would topple into the river at any moment (it finally did topple during a flood in December of 1980). Wahpeton Hill, part of the Ozark Foothills, had many of the features of a sure-enough mountain, my favorite being a craggy outcropping a short walk from the cabin that offered a lovely view of the river.
And then there was the river and the canoe.
The Spring River has long been a popular summertime getaway for residents of the greater Memphis area... perhaps too popular. Several canoe liveries put their customers on a section a few miles upstream of Hardy, and all manner of unruly behavior is common on the busiest summer weekends. Down at Hardy, in the shadow of Wahpeton Hill, the river is a quieter, more family-friendly place, and it was there that our two families swam in the cool spring-fed water and soaked up the sun on a floating dock. The canoeing we did usually involved the little kids like me sitting in the middle of the Feilds' aluminum Grumman while the grownups did the paddling. About a mile upriver there was a little shoals where my sister and I and the Feild children loved to swim and wade, and the canoe was the vehicle that got us there.
One of my favorite stories concerning the elite athletes I know is that of siblings Davey and Cathy Hearn, both of whom were world champions and Olympians in careers that started in the 70s and lasted until the early 00s. Canoeing was part of their lives when the two were little, but it was the same kind of unstructured play that I engaged in at Hardy. They didn't give much thought to serious racing until one summer day in 1972, when the news came on the radio that a member of their DC-area canoe club, Jamie McEwan, had taken the bronze medal in whitewater slalom canoe at the Olympic Games in Germany. Suddenly, their heads were alive with thoughts like, "We're just like Jamie. We paddle in the same canoe club, and run the same rivers he's run. Why couldn't we go and race in the Olympics, just like he's done?"
I didn't have a role model of Jamie McEwan's stature, and I've certainly never achieved the heights in the sport that Cathy and Davey have. Fortunately, you don't have to be as good as they to share in the joy of paddling, and my transition from the little kid playing around on the Spring River to an adolescent and adult plying the craft with much greater skill was not really that much different from theirs. Once I was a bit older and had shipped off to camp for the summer, I was able to look at the canoes on the lake there and believe I belonged in one. Soon enough I saw the canoeing staff counselors, several of whom were quite accomplished as paddlers, as the coolest guys in camp and just the role models I needed.
Roscoe was not a great paddler, or even a good paddler, for that matter. But when my age was measured in single digits, I didn't need a guru. I just needed somebody to put me in a boat and let my imagination do the rest. Roscoe and Jane and my parents probably never gave much thought to whether I would go on embrace paddlesports as a lifelong passion; they were simply doing what all people should do for the children in their lives, and providing me with an activity to pass the time on those long hot summer days.
Roscoe Feild passed away at the age of 84 this past Sunday. You can view his obituary in The Commercial Appeal of Memphis here. I humbly pay tribute to the man here for the role he played in making me a paddler.
But it wouldn't really be wrong to trace my paddling history back some ten years earlier than that. During my childhood my family took trips to Hardy, Arkansas, as guests of my parents' close friends Roscoe and Jane Feild, who owned a cabin on Wahpeton Hill overlooking the Spring River just across from the town. In my first decade on this Earth there was no place more magical than Hardy. The Frisco Railroad ran right through town, and at that age I loved trains (I still do, for that matter). Traveling between the cabin and the town involved crossing a rusty old one-lane steel bridge that we kids thought would topple into the river at any moment (it finally did topple during a flood in December of 1980). Wahpeton Hill, part of the Ozark Foothills, had many of the features of a sure-enough mountain, my favorite being a craggy outcropping a short walk from the cabin that offered a lovely view of the river.
And then there was the river and the canoe.
The Spring River has long been a popular summertime getaway for residents of the greater Memphis area... perhaps too popular. Several canoe liveries put their customers on a section a few miles upstream of Hardy, and all manner of unruly behavior is common on the busiest summer weekends. Down at Hardy, in the shadow of Wahpeton Hill, the river is a quieter, more family-friendly place, and it was there that our two families swam in the cool spring-fed water and soaked up the sun on a floating dock. The canoeing we did usually involved the little kids like me sitting in the middle of the Feilds' aluminum Grumman while the grownups did the paddling. About a mile upriver there was a little shoals where my sister and I and the Feild children loved to swim and wade, and the canoe was the vehicle that got us there.
One of my favorite stories concerning the elite athletes I know is that of siblings Davey and Cathy Hearn, both of whom were world champions and Olympians in careers that started in the 70s and lasted until the early 00s. Canoeing was part of their lives when the two were little, but it was the same kind of unstructured play that I engaged in at Hardy. They didn't give much thought to serious racing until one summer day in 1972, when the news came on the radio that a member of their DC-area canoe club, Jamie McEwan, had taken the bronze medal in whitewater slalom canoe at the Olympic Games in Germany. Suddenly, their heads were alive with thoughts like, "We're just like Jamie. We paddle in the same canoe club, and run the same rivers he's run. Why couldn't we go and race in the Olympics, just like he's done?"
I didn't have a role model of Jamie McEwan's stature, and I've certainly never achieved the heights in the sport that Cathy and Davey have. Fortunately, you don't have to be as good as they to share in the joy of paddling, and my transition from the little kid playing around on the Spring River to an adolescent and adult plying the craft with much greater skill was not really that much different from theirs. Once I was a bit older and had shipped off to camp for the summer, I was able to look at the canoes on the lake there and believe I belonged in one. Soon enough I saw the canoeing staff counselors, several of whom were quite accomplished as paddlers, as the coolest guys in camp and just the role models I needed.
Roscoe was not a great paddler, or even a good paddler, for that matter. But when my age was measured in single digits, I didn't need a guru. I just needed somebody to put me in a boat and let my imagination do the rest. Roscoe and Jane and my parents probably never gave much thought to whether I would go on embrace paddlesports as a lifelong passion; they were simply doing what all people should do for the children in their lives, and providing me with an activity to pass the time on those long hot summer days.
Roscoe Feild passed away at the age of 84 this past Sunday. You can view his obituary in The Commercial Appeal of Memphis here. I humbly pay tribute to the man here for the role he played in making me a paddler.
Manning the stern, Roscoe Feild guides the canoe alongside the dock with a not-half-bad rudder stroke. His wife Jane sits in front of him, with their son John (in the orange life vest) and me in the middle. My older sister paddles in the bow.
Wednesday, January 20, 2016
Froze thru & thru
Just in case I hadn't been yearning adequately for my trip to Hawaii, some more January-like weather has moved in this week. The last several days have been windy and overcast, and the temperature failed to exceed the freezing point Monday and yesterday. It would have been very easy for me to skip paddling yesterday if I hadn't agreed to meet Joe down at the river, and I wouldn't be surprised if Joe was having similar thoughts. But we had made a pact, so out into the cold we went.
Training in the wintertime is actually not so bad once you're in the boat paddling. Standing on the dock changing clothes and readying your boat and gear is what hurts the worst. We took care of those ancillary chores as fast as we could, and then hit the water for a 75-minute session that was reasonably comfortable aside from my chilled feet. All my sit-inside boats are stored here at home; I suppose I could take one down to the dock for winter paddling, but, well... winter doesn't last that long here.
After paddling I came home, lit a fire in my workshop wood stove, and spent the rest of the day trying to warm back up.
Training in the wintertime is actually not so bad once you're in the boat paddling. Standing on the dock changing clothes and readying your boat and gear is what hurts the worst. We took care of those ancillary chores as fast as we could, and then hit the water for a 75-minute session that was reasonably comfortable aside from my chilled feet. All my sit-inside boats are stored here at home; I suppose I could take one down to the dock for winter paddling, but, well... winter doesn't last that long here.
After paddling I came home, lit a fire in my workshop wood stove, and spent the rest of the day trying to warm back up.
Monday, January 18, 2016
Monday photo feature
Today's forecast for Memphis, Tennessee, calls for a high temperature of 32 degrees Fahrenheit. That's an even zero on the Celsius thermometer. Seems like a good time to look ahead to my Hawaii trip, which is now less than a month away.
Pictured here is Zsolt Szadovszki, the top surf ski racer in Hawaii. Zsolt is a former flatwater sprint racer for the Hungarian national team, a top program in international competition for decades. Now living in Honolulu, he's the regional distributer for Epic Kayaks and is kindly arranging a rental boat for me when I'm there next month. Photo by Barbara Yendell.
Sunday, January 17, 2016
Some pain and some drama to spice up the routine
I've spent the week doing my usual thing in and out of the boat.
I paddled for 60 minutes on Tuesday, Thursday, yesterday, and today. I was starting to feel lethargic in the boat, and I addressed that by doing three 8-stroke sprints at the beginning of each session. My sprinting technique was rusty, but each time out I felt a little bit sharper and more enthusiastic about what I was doing.
I'm also still doing the January strength routine three times a week. Strength work has always been my least favorite part of training, but I'm feeling pretty good about how this month's routine is going. Each time I stretch and warm up thoroughly, and then move quickly from one exercise to the next. I certainly hope this work will enhance my performance in the boat, but I also it helps my general fitness as I inch ever closer to the golden anniversary of my birth. All over town I notice older people, and occasionally even people my age, struggling mightily with everyday movements that I take for granted: climbing stairs or moderate inclines, standing up and sitting down, lifting objects and moving them around... stuff like that. A big goal of mine for the later stages of my life is to continue to do these basic things comfortably, and I think moving my body every day is the key ("use it or lose it," in other words).
For a couple of weeks I've had some fairly intense soreness in my lower back and all around my hip area. I've addressed it with some stretching exercises as well as some sessions of backpaddling in the boat to work opposing muscles. The condition has finally eased up a bit just in the last couple of days.
More worrisome is something that doesn't affect my paddling but definitely affects my overall quality of life: my right foot has been aching right in the arch area for a couple of months, and it seems to be getting worse. So far I've just been living with it, hoping it'll get better, but if this keeps up I might have to give in and see a doctor.
Meanwhile, our sport got a bit of unwanted media attention on Friday. For me, it started in the late morning when a friend called me on the telephone and asked me if I was okay.
"I think so," I replied. "Should I not be?"
It turned out that somebody in an office building overlooking the river downtown had reported an "overturned kayaker," and several emergency response agencies were searching all up and down the riverfront for the hapless victim. All the local TV news outlets, hungry for something sensational, were on the scene covering the brouhaha for their noon broadcasts, and there was also a story on the website of our daily newspaper, The Commercial Appeal. That latter story said something about a "white two-person kayak," and I happen to have a friend with just such a boat, so now I was a bit concerned as I left that friend a voice-mail message to call me back.
A short while later my friend did call me back, and explained that the whole affair was nothing more than a false alarm. He was in fact on the river in his white tandem boat with a friend of his, and for some reason the person up in the office building got the impression that they were in distress even though they were nothing of the sort. A police harbor patrol boat met them as they returned to the harbor from the main river, and once they had reassured the cops that they were fine, they retired to the marina. By late afternoon the story had disappeared from The Commercial Appeal's website, and the TV stations mentioned nothing about it in their six o'clock newscasts.
I have no idea what the person up in the office building thought he saw, and I don't want to sneer at a concerned citizen who was trying to do the right thing. But the incident provides an example of how our general population views the Mississippi River and the idea of getting out on it in a human-powered craft.
I paddled for 60 minutes on Tuesday, Thursday, yesterday, and today. I was starting to feel lethargic in the boat, and I addressed that by doing three 8-stroke sprints at the beginning of each session. My sprinting technique was rusty, but each time out I felt a little bit sharper and more enthusiastic about what I was doing.
I'm also still doing the January strength routine three times a week. Strength work has always been my least favorite part of training, but I'm feeling pretty good about how this month's routine is going. Each time I stretch and warm up thoroughly, and then move quickly from one exercise to the next. I certainly hope this work will enhance my performance in the boat, but I also it helps my general fitness as I inch ever closer to the golden anniversary of my birth. All over town I notice older people, and occasionally even people my age, struggling mightily with everyday movements that I take for granted: climbing stairs or moderate inclines, standing up and sitting down, lifting objects and moving them around... stuff like that. A big goal of mine for the later stages of my life is to continue to do these basic things comfortably, and I think moving my body every day is the key ("use it or lose it," in other words).
For a couple of weeks I've had some fairly intense soreness in my lower back and all around my hip area. I've addressed it with some stretching exercises as well as some sessions of backpaddling in the boat to work opposing muscles. The condition has finally eased up a bit just in the last couple of days.
More worrisome is something that doesn't affect my paddling but definitely affects my overall quality of life: my right foot has been aching right in the arch area for a couple of months, and it seems to be getting worse. So far I've just been living with it, hoping it'll get better, but if this keeps up I might have to give in and see a doctor.
Meanwhile, our sport got a bit of unwanted media attention on Friday. For me, it started in the late morning when a friend called me on the telephone and asked me if I was okay.
"I think so," I replied. "Should I not be?"
It turned out that somebody in an office building overlooking the river downtown had reported an "overturned kayaker," and several emergency response agencies were searching all up and down the riverfront for the hapless victim. All the local TV news outlets, hungry for something sensational, were on the scene covering the brouhaha for their noon broadcasts, and there was also a story on the website of our daily newspaper, The Commercial Appeal. That latter story said something about a "white two-person kayak," and I happen to have a friend with just such a boat, so now I was a bit concerned as I left that friend a voice-mail message to call me back.
A short while later my friend did call me back, and explained that the whole affair was nothing more than a false alarm. He was in fact on the river in his white tandem boat with a friend of his, and for some reason the person up in the office building got the impression that they were in distress even though they were nothing of the sort. A police harbor patrol boat met them as they returned to the harbor from the main river, and once they had reassured the cops that they were fine, they retired to the marina. By late afternoon the story had disappeared from The Commercial Appeal's website, and the TV stations mentioned nothing about it in their six o'clock newscasts.
I have no idea what the person up in the office building thought he saw, and I don't want to sneer at a concerned citizen who was trying to do the right thing. But the incident provides an example of how our general population views the Mississippi River and the idea of getting out on it in a human-powered craft.
Monday, January 11, 2016
Monday photo feature
As the Mississippi River at Memphis begins to recede, I share here a striking contrast between low water and high water.
The railroad trestle pictured here crosses the Wolf River about two miles above its confluence with the Mississippi. I took the top photo on May 5, 2012, on which day the Mississippi was at 8.2 feet on the Memphis gauge; much lower and it would have been difficult to paddle this far up the Wolf because of shallow water.
I took the second photo yesterday, when the Memphis gauge reading was 39.4 feet. At least in rough terms, a foot on the Memphis gauge corresponds to a vertical foot of elevation of the river's surface throughout this region, so it's fairly safe to say that the water is some 30 feet higher in the second photo than in the first.
I'll just add that during the 2011 flood, when the river rose just over 48 feet on the Memphis gauge, the water was up to the top of the rails on the train tracks. I took a couple of pictures back then, but sadly I can't find them anywhere.
Sunday, January 10, 2016
Fun (sort of) in the wildwater boat
Today I felt like doing something different, so I did something different.
I got my wildwater boat down from where it's been stored up under the deck behind my place, put it on the car, and drove to the mouth of the Wolf River. Then I paddled some four miles or so up the Wolf and back.
Yesterday's rain had given way to a blast of cold air; when I arrived at the river the display in my car's dashboard said it was 28 degrees Fahrenheit. An icy wind was blowing out of the northwest, and I was glad to be sitting down inside the wildwater boat rather than sitting on top of a surf ski. On the other hand, the wind made the rudderless boat difficult to steer, and I grimaced as I leaned the boat left and right with my sore hips and lower back.
In any case, putting in at the mouth of the Wolf gave me a chance to explore a good bit of its flooded lower miles without having to paddle all the way up the Mississippi from the marina. With the Mississippi registering 39.4 feet, the Wolf was flooded well beyond the section I managed to paddle (I made it as far up as the Watkins Street bridge before turning around).
I got my wildwater boat down from where it's been stored up under the deck behind my place, put it on the car, and drove to the mouth of the Wolf River. Then I paddled some four miles or so up the Wolf and back.
Yesterday's rain had given way to a blast of cold air; when I arrived at the river the display in my car's dashboard said it was 28 degrees Fahrenheit. An icy wind was blowing out of the northwest, and I was glad to be sitting down inside the wildwater boat rather than sitting on top of a surf ski. On the other hand, the wind made the rudderless boat difficult to steer, and I grimaced as I leaned the boat left and right with my sore hips and lower back.
In any case, putting in at the mouth of the Wolf gave me a chance to explore a good bit of its flooded lower miles without having to paddle all the way up the Mississippi from the marina. With the Mississippi registering 39.4 feet, the Wolf was flooded well beyond the section I managed to paddle (I made it as far up as the Watkins Street bridge before turning around).
Saturday, January 9, 2016
Those lovely gray skies
The Mississippi crested yesterday at 39.59 feet on the Memphis gauge. That huge mass of water that fell as rain two weeks ago is now moving on downriver and causing high-water events at places like Greeneville, Vicksburg, Natchez, Baton Rouge, and New Orleans. The river here will be dropping slowly for a few days, then more rapidly after that. When I got down there this morning the level was about 39.5. I suppose I could keep on posting pictures here, but surely by now everybody gets the idea. If you want to know what the marina area looks like as the river drops, just look at the photos I've posted here in reverse order.
My midsection continues to be quite sore, and I've been doing all the stretches and warmup exercises I know of to bring about improvement. Today I did another relatively easy session, spending 40 minutes in the boat.
It was a rainy day here in the Mid South, with intermittent showers, some of them quite heavy, moving through. One semi-heavy shower fell on me while I was paddling, but it didn't last long. I'll repeat something I've noted in the past: some of the most beautiful moments I've spent on the river have occurred on rainy days. Today the sky was full of billowing clouds in many shades of gray, with an occasional ray of sunshine peeking through, and I felt fortunate to witness it all. It's easy to get outside on warm sunny days, but it can be surprisingly rewarding to get oneself out on the supposedly not-so-nice days.
My midsection continues to be quite sore, and I've been doing all the stretches and warmup exercises I know of to bring about improvement. Today I did another relatively easy session, spending 40 minutes in the boat.
It was a rainy day here in the Mid South, with intermittent showers, some of them quite heavy, moving through. One semi-heavy shower fell on me while I was paddling, but it didn't last long. I'll repeat something I've noted in the past: some of the most beautiful moments I've spent on the river have occurred on rainy days. Today the sky was full of billowing clouds in many shades of gray, with an occasional ray of sunshine peeking through, and I felt fortunate to witness it all. It's easy to get outside on warm sunny days, but it can be surprisingly rewarding to get oneself out on the supposedly not-so-nice days.
Thursday, January 7, 2016
It'll be cresting soon
The Mississippi River level this morning was 39.3 feet on the Memphis gauge--just 1.2 feet higher than Tuesday's level. The rise is slowing down, and the level might not even hit 40 feet. I don't think I'll be parking my car much higher up the hill than this:
The prevailing wind had shifted to the southeast, blowing more garbage to the water's edge on this side of the harbor. Here's how it looked from the marina today:
I've been feeling quite sore in my lower back and hip area this week, and I have a feeling it's partly because I've ramped up my paddling volume a bit out of a desire to get out there and check out the high water. So today I took it easier, paddling for just 60 minutes and staying in the harbor except for a brief jaunt out onto the river at the harbor's mouth.
The prevailing wind had shifted to the southeast, blowing more garbage to the water's edge on this side of the harbor. Here's how it looked from the marina today:
I've been feeling quite sore in my lower back and hip area this week, and I have a feeling it's partly because I've ramped up my paddling volume a bit out of a desire to get out there and check out the high water. So today I took it easier, paddling for just 60 minutes and staying in the harbor except for a brief jaunt out onto the river at the harbor's mouth.
Tuesday, January 5, 2016
"38 Feet High and Risin'"
Back to the river I went this morning to see how Great Flood 2016 is coming along. I drove my truck today because I had to run an errand along the way that involved moving something. Even the mightiest truck must defer to the whims of the mighty Mississippi River:
What we see here is a water level that measured 38.1 feet on the Memphis gauge. Forecasters are predicting a crest of 40.5 feet this Friday, so the water should rise only a couple of feet higher than this. I believe this particular apocalypse will be more heckish than hellish. Here's the view from that spot on the marina:
Once in the boat I paddled for 90 minutes, heading out of the harbor and upriver, through the flooded Greenbelt Park, and a half mile or so up the Wolf River before turning around and coming back. It was another nice January day, though not quite as lovely as Sunday was: a breeze from the east was putting quite a chill on things. But it was still not bad for the dead of winter.
What we see here is a water level that measured 38.1 feet on the Memphis gauge. Forecasters are predicting a crest of 40.5 feet this Friday, so the water should rise only a couple of feet higher than this. I believe this particular apocalypse will be more heckish than hellish. Here's the view from that spot on the marina:
Once in the boat I paddled for 90 minutes, heading out of the harbor and upriver, through the flooded Greenbelt Park, and a half mile or so up the Wolf River before turning around and coming back. It was another nice January day, though not quite as lovely as Sunday was: a breeze from the east was putting quite a chill on things. But it was still not bad for the dead of winter.
Monday, January 4, 2016
Monday photo feature
It sort of looks like Jesus Christ left His truck parked on the Memphis riverfront back in May of 2011. I took this photo as the water was approaching its crest level of 48.03 feet on the Memphis gauge that month. The highest level we see in most years is lower than 40 feet, and this landscape, a parking lot on Mud Island just south of the Hernando DeSoto Bridge, is high and dry.
Right now we're watching the river rise again, with the current forecast calling for a crest of 41 feet at the end of this week. You won't have to be the Messiah to park here at that level.
Sunday, January 3, 2016
Where'd that guard rail go?
I went down to the riverfront this morning and found a level of 35.1 feet on the Memphis gauge--five feet higher than what it was on Thursday when I last went down there. I had to park my car higher up the hill today:
Here's the view from that same spot on the marina pier:
The National Weather Service continues to revise its forecast downward. The latest I've heard is that they're predicting a crest of 41 feet (a foot lower than before) on January 8 (a day sooner than before). As fun as it is to take these pictures of high water, I consider that good news. Hopefully we can get by with just a small fraction of the damage the Saint Louis area experienced. I also hope we can avoid the national media circus that we saw during the big flood of 2011, when the river rose to 48.03 feet on the Memphis gauge.
The yellow building in the second photo is the Maria Montessori School, and it was the site of one of the more absurd moments on the national news in 2011. The little amphitheater that you can see at the right side of the photo was completely under water, and an NBC reporter decided to don chest waders and appear on camera while standing on a step of the amphitheater with water up to his chest. The resulting footage earned the derision of Jon Stewart on The Daily Show: "The water is NIPPLE HIGH, ladies and gentlemen!"
On a more important note, I had a good paddle in absolutely gorgeous weather. The sun shone, and the Fahrenheit temperature was in the mid to high 40s with only a light breeze... an ideal January day. I paddled for 80 minutes, going out onto the river and up the inundated Greenbelt Park. I paddled a pretty strong pace with several long surges. As I paddled back to the dock I ran into my friend Joe on his way out, and I was glad not to be the only one enjoying this lovely paddling weather.
Here's the view from that same spot on the marina pier:
The National Weather Service continues to revise its forecast downward. The latest I've heard is that they're predicting a crest of 41 feet (a foot lower than before) on January 8 (a day sooner than before). As fun as it is to take these pictures of high water, I consider that good news. Hopefully we can get by with just a small fraction of the damage the Saint Louis area experienced. I also hope we can avoid the national media circus that we saw during the big flood of 2011, when the river rose to 48.03 feet on the Memphis gauge.
The yellow building in the second photo is the Maria Montessori School, and it was the site of one of the more absurd moments on the national news in 2011. The little amphitheater that you can see at the right side of the photo was completely under water, and an NBC reporter decided to don chest waders and appear on camera while standing on a step of the amphitheater with water up to his chest. The resulting footage earned the derision of Jon Stewart on The Daily Show: "The water is NIPPLE HIGH, ladies and gentlemen!"
On a more important note, I had a good paddle in absolutely gorgeous weather. The sun shone, and the Fahrenheit temperature was in the mid to high 40s with only a light breeze... an ideal January day. I paddled for 80 minutes, going out onto the river and up the inundated Greenbelt Park. I paddled a pretty strong pace with several long surges. As I paddled back to the dock I ran into my friend Joe on his way out, and I was glad not to be the only one enjoying this lovely paddling weather.
Thursday, December 31, 2015
Beginning to take some photos
Yesterday I did another round of the January strength routine. It's beginning to flow now as I've gotten used to the exercises, although that one-foot lift still feels a bit awkward to me.
I paddled with Joe in the harbor for 80 minutes this morning. The Memphis gauge reading was about 30.1 feet--still not an outrageously high level. But more water is on its way. The National Weather Service has revised its crest-level prediction downward a bit--42 feet, rather than the 43.5 feet it was saying the other day--but that's still higher than all but three crests on record.
Mostly just for fun, I'm trying to snap a photo or two each time I go down to the riverfront over the next couple of weeks. I took this one Tuesday, when the Memphis gauge reading was 27.3 feet. I'm standing on Harbortown Marina looking over at the Montessori school on the bank. That's my car parked over in the left side of the picture:
This morning I took this photo from the same vantage point. The water level is almost three feet higher. I reckon I'll have to park my car a bit farther up the hill next time I'm down there:
I took this shot today of my car from another angle. You can see the water coming just past the guard rail in the right side of the picture:
So... check this blog every couple of days for the next couple of weeks, and we'll experience this high-water event together.
I paddled with Joe in the harbor for 80 minutes this morning. The Memphis gauge reading was about 30.1 feet--still not an outrageously high level. But more water is on its way. The National Weather Service has revised its crest-level prediction downward a bit--42 feet, rather than the 43.5 feet it was saying the other day--but that's still higher than all but three crests on record.
Mostly just for fun, I'm trying to snap a photo or two each time I go down to the riverfront over the next couple of weeks. I took this one Tuesday, when the Memphis gauge reading was 27.3 feet. I'm standing on Harbortown Marina looking over at the Montessori school on the bank. That's my car parked over in the left side of the picture:
This morning I took this photo from the same vantage point. The water level is almost three feet higher. I reckon I'll have to park my car a bit farther up the hill next time I'm down there:
I took this shot today of my car from another angle. You can see the water coming just past the guard rail in the right side of the picture:
So... check this blog every couple of days for the next couple of weeks, and we'll experience this high-water event together.
Wednesday, December 30, 2015
Some people are already flooded
As a follow-up to yesterday's post, I send positive thoughts upriver to folks in Saint Louis and much of the rest of Missouri, where the flooding reports sound bad. I think the greater Saint Louis region, where the Missouri and Mississippi Rivers meet, has a lot more residents in low-lying areas than we have here at Memphis. Right now it sounds like they're re-living the nightmare of the 1993 flood.
Yesterday I heard on the radio that West Alton, Missouri--just a few miles up the river from Saint Louis--was experiencing some pretty bad flooding. I went to a race there last August, and I believe it. It was not high ground.
Meanwhile, here at Memphis things are just fine at the moment. The Memphis gauge reading is 28.5 feet, just 1.2 feet higher than this time yesterday. Like I said yesterday, it's a rather high level, but nothing out of the ordinary.
Yesterday I heard on the radio that West Alton, Missouri--just a few miles up the river from Saint Louis--was experiencing some pretty bad flooding. I went to a race there last August, and I believe it. It was not high ground.
Meanwhile, here at Memphis things are just fine at the moment. The Memphis gauge reading is 28.5 feet, just 1.2 feet higher than this time yesterday. Like I said yesterday, it's a rather high level, but nothing out of the ordinary.
Tuesday, December 29, 2015
Lotsa water
I paddled my boat today for the first time in twelve days. The layoff had been caused by both the little virus I had last week and some holiday travel to visit family. The unfortunate thing about it is that I missed some balmy weather to paddle in: the Memphis area saw Fahrenheit highs in the 70s for most of last week, but today it was a much more seasonable mid-40s while I was on the water.
I paddled for 60 minutes, and concentrated hard on rotating fully and using my legs. Generally I felt pretty good, although my right shoulder, the same one that was bothering me back in the spring, has been feeling a bit weak and sore. I might have tweaked it while moving some heavy hickory lumber around in my workshop yesterday. I probably should re-start the little rubber band exercises that helped it last time.
The big news in Memphis right now is some impending flooding on the Mississippi, the result of the huge storm system that moved across the Midwest Sunday and yesterday. The current forecast says the river will crest at 43.5 feet on the Memphis gauge on January 9. I'm hoping that figure will be revised downward a bit over the next few days, to minimize the impact on the lives and homes of people in our community. Mind you, most Memphians will not be affected in that way: the city sits up on a bluff, beyond the reach of anything shy of a truly biblical flood. So those thoughtful people who are concerned for my safety should rest assured that I don't foresee any problems whatsoever. But there are some vulnerable areas, especially in the basins of the tributary streams. The Mississippi backs up into those basins when it's in flood.
Today's level was 27.3 feet. That's fairly high, but nothing we don't see practically every year. The official flood stage on the Memphis gauge is 34 feet, and the river is expected to exceed that by New Year's Day.
I paddled for 60 minutes, and concentrated hard on rotating fully and using my legs. Generally I felt pretty good, although my right shoulder, the same one that was bothering me back in the spring, has been feeling a bit weak and sore. I might have tweaked it while moving some heavy hickory lumber around in my workshop yesterday. I probably should re-start the little rubber band exercises that helped it last time.
The big news in Memphis right now is some impending flooding on the Mississippi, the result of the huge storm system that moved across the Midwest Sunday and yesterday. The current forecast says the river will crest at 43.5 feet on the Memphis gauge on January 9. I'm hoping that figure will be revised downward a bit over the next few days, to minimize the impact on the lives and homes of people in our community. Mind you, most Memphians will not be affected in that way: the city sits up on a bluff, beyond the reach of anything shy of a truly biblical flood. So those thoughtful people who are concerned for my safety should rest assured that I don't foresee any problems whatsoever. But there are some vulnerable areas, especially in the basins of the tributary streams. The Mississippi backs up into those basins when it's in flood.
Today's level was 27.3 feet. That's fairly high, but nothing we don't see practically every year. The official flood stage on the Memphis gauge is 34 feet, and the river is expected to exceed that by New Year's Day.
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