Apparently, my thing, when I get into big stuff, is to paddle hard. At least that's what Kevin said to Tom when I said I didn't have the skills for his Rough Water Symposium.
The thing is, Kevin is right... that's exactly what I do. When the waves get big and breaking, I want momentum, and I want my paddle in the water all the time, and as long as I'm paddling hard I'm feeling stable. And much as I love catching rides on waves, I only play at this surfing thing when the waves are *little*. My response to surf launching is to get in my kayak, do up my sprayskirt, and demand that whoever is near me push. I can think of more than one launch and several landings where I felt no compunction about having help.
And while I'll never be one of those elegant kayakers with mad skillz, for a short time, this past weekend, I got it, this drive for wanting to be *better*. Until now, my entire focus has been on tripping: the kayak is the means to get to places I cannot otherwise get to, paddling is kind of fun, and I need to be good at staying upright and strong enough to resort to my paddle when the big stuff comes strategy. I have a boat that matches this attitude: it takes an ok amount of gear, it tracks like its on rails, it likes to go fast.
And then Kevin bought a Romany. I was in his Ellesmere (which felt fine and all, but required way more effort than my Solstice to keep tracking) and he asked if I wanted to try the new boat. I did, in part because I wanted to do an on-the-water boat swap - it's not something I've done very often, and I was wearing full-on fuzzy rubber and we were in sheltered water. And I got into the Romany. Despite the fact that the cockpit was not really designed (or padded out) for my proportions (I have hips, ok?) and I hated the backband... oh...
I want a boat like that. Despite a very rockered hull, it tracks better than the Ellesmere (not quite as good as the GTS, but better than any other rockered boat I have ever tried). And then, I wasn't even going fast, and I didn't lean into it much, but a really lame low brace turn turned me more than 90 degrees. I did a half-assed high brace turn, and I got more than that. I turned it in five paddle strokes, from a stationary start. I did not suggest another boat swap for the rest of the paddle.
And while I was in there, despite the less than ideal fit, I kind of got this whole desire to make the boat *do* stuff. I wanted to learn more stuff, and practice things I already know, and for once I didn't think that all these courses and things were for other people and I'll just keep doing what I'm doing.
It didn't help that Tom told me that there is a version of the boat that would indeed fit my body. It didn't help at all.
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In other news, perhaps it was the lack of compatibility between my body and the Romany, or perhaps it is just the time of year, but I've done the last of the things that I needed to do to be a full-fledged KW resident: I joined a gym. I loved my old gym, especially the bike classes. I'm hoping to love the new one too... it is less posh in some ways, but the main features that it does not have (steam room, saltwater pool, squash courts, fireplace lounge, juice bar, daycare) I never used anyway. What it *does* have is gadget-geek features, which I will explore during my gadgetry orientation today. What else do you expect from a gym in the same building as google?
This summer, there was this kayak trip on Lake Superior, and it was lovely. I took some pictures and everything, and they are languishing on my hard drive along with all the other pictures I took. But Keith uploaded his. Go have a look at them. It's kind of cool to be in so many trip pictures.
But really, I should stop being so lazy - because if I let this blog die, new opportunities might stop presenting themselves. Last weekend, I went Turbostalking, and I doubt that the mission would have been as successful as it was (I infiltrated the Turbopalace! I met the Turbocat!) if there was no blog of my own to give it context. Think of all the stalking opportunities that won't happen if I no longer have a blog!
"I have a big head," I said to the bike store dude. He shot back a "literally or figuratively?" comment, and I admitted to perhaps a bit of both. And then I said I wanted my new bike helmet to be pink.
I'm not what most people consider a girly girl. If they realized just how many pairs of shoes I own they might reconsider this notion (then again, the volume is high, the heels are not.) More people are surprised when I admit to make-up (if you know me through anything related to this blog, though, you've never seen it...) I keep running out of skirt hangers in my closet. And I wanted a pink bicycle helmet, dammit.
I can give you practical reasons, too. Years ago, I was riding on some busy roads. With my grey helmet, black shorts, and generic baggy t-shirt I could have been anyone if you're in a transport truck speeding toward me. Then, I bought a bright red jersey with yellow daisies, and suddenly the transports gave me more room. It turns out a certain element is more reluctant to spray a woman with gravel than a man. You take what advantages you can get. A pink helmet would me much the same.
And the bike store had the prettiest pink helmet ever. It had flowers on it, even. I went straight to that one, and the smartass salesguy took it out of its package and put it on what he figured was an appropriate notch. And then he put it on the biggest notch. And it fit, but only just... there was no room for a toque, and I'll be riding this winter and my old helmet is so old that I don't think it's really worth wearing anymore.
Thus, since my noggin is too big for the girly helmet, I have a boring blue one. I consoled myself by buying a pink bell for my new bike. Well, my now-old bike: Kevin was going to do some upgrades to the Konabike (and the smartasses would say, putting a different frame on it makes it a different bike, but I would have argued, it's all my components! it's a new frame on my bike!) but as these things go... first there was a comment about some cables being too short. New cables are hardly a big deal. But then the grip shifts pissed him off, and he changed to regular (indexed) shifters. And my derailleurs bit the dust, and my headset is gone and there are different handlebars and I've been upgraded to an eight speed cassette and now, it turns out, this new bike has the same pedals and crank and rack and brake levers as my old bike, but that's about it. And as of tomorrow, it's going to have a pink bell. The days of womens bikes and mens bikes may be gone, but I shall girlify my commuter yet.
Oh yeah, I'm commuting on bike every day now. My office is exactly 5.1 km from my front door, and that makes for a very pleasant and easy commute. It's just one of the things I love about my new job, though I'm still a bit startled when I look at my ID and it says "faculty", or when I get all the official mail that is addressed to Dr. Wandel. I've had the title for over two years now, but the only times it was ever used was when I had done something particularly boneheaded and one of the smartasses of this world felt the need to point out that all my book learning wasn't so useful after all.
Yeah, I know: skirts, make-up, proper job... it's time I went paddling again. Withdrawal is setting in.
The latest news isn't new to anyone who knows me well: I am a wimp. Today, when Tom pointed out that the forecast for the weekend was rather crap, I immediately jumped ship. Well, ok, I suggested we *postpone* the trip, to a time when the fall colours would be out. As long as it's not raining, that is.
Ever since that wet wet wet trip to Gwaii Haanas three years ago (only three? it feels like a lifetime ago), I have been somewhat rain averse. "Somewhat rain averse" is my way of saying that, when it started to rain while we were in Austria last summer, I whined until Kevin agreed we could get on a train and go back to my hometown. Where I bought rain pants (and started lusting after Ortlieb waterproof panniers. This is unrequited lust to date...)
I have gore-tex pants. I have some cheapo non gore-tex pants that market themselves as waterproof breathable (but are mostly waterproof sittable). I have a gore-tex shell. I have a rain shell. I have a super light rain shell of something that feels like sil-nylon. I have another rain shell, and probably another and another. I have neoprene gloves and drypants and waterproof neoprene tops and bottoms. I have weather appropriate gear for all sorts of weather. I've also got a bad attitude...
Aside from that wet, whiny day in Austria, I've only got drenchingly wet once this summer - on my way back from the library, on foot, in July. On our Killarney paddling trip, we had a few good downpours one day - but we saw it coming and did one of the best tarp jobs ever initiated by me. On another trip, to Champlain Island, it never really rained. On the Superior trip, we had two days that had those sky opens like a bucket moment, but both were late in the day well after Kevin ignored my "I think it will blow over!" optimism and thus tarps were up. It didn't rain at all when we went to the Snakes. Really, for such a wet summer, I've stayed remarkably dry. I don't think I paddled in the rain at all, and I only had to bike in it for one day - and even then, it tapered off after an hour or two. Even in Iceland, I had some of the nicest weather that Island ever gets. And the day I wanted to go the icecap in Greenland, it was also nice...
All of that means that I must be due. Thus, if I were to go to Algonquin with Tom this weekend, we might well be huddling under a tarp. Yeah. Wimp.
But *next* weekend, next weekend I wanna paddle. I miss it. It's been weeks...