I sort of disappeared on the guys after Simon’s presentatation. I found a little spot out under some trees where I could vent my thoughts. Odd that Richard had a camera on me right at that moment. I was looking at his picture trying to see any bit of how I was feeling expressed on my face. Nope. Just me at the computer. . Probobly not a bad thing. Anyway, Here’s what I wrote. .

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Well, tonight I’m sitting on a trail of ground up woody bits under a forest of green-gray oak. The sun has just fallen below the horizon and a bee buzzes just by my side. I slap mosquitoes away as I type, all the while wiping the sweat from my temples and trying to focus my thoughts before they dissipate. A car door slammed shut. Birds are announcing the coming of night.

A few minutes ago Simon Osborne completed his presentation on his circumnavigations of both Ireland and Great Britain. You couldn’t help but be awed by the photos of imposing cliffs and twisting waves. It was all very impressive and amazing. But I can’t stop focusing on the photograph of Simon and his brother Mark from many years ago smiling from an odd shaped little wide kayak. Mark has long since died of leukemia. I find myself contemplating the mission. The drive to raise money. I wonder about how love and memory translate into actions. And how such sad events can take a life and lead it into a strange future where you find yourself paddling around countries, or in a foreign land clicking a wireless mouse and hoping the technology will agree to play nice.

When my father died of lung cancer so many years ago, I just felt confused. Powerless. I didn’t see a mission, or a promise to keep. All I could take with me was suffering and loss. I took a memory of him lying in this antiseptic little gray room telling me it was ok to cry. I framed it in my mind’s eye and never let that frozen image escape my vision. “It would all be all right”, he said. Sitting there looking at his colorless face, I suspected it wouldn’t be. At his bedside I would smile and try for his sake to cheer up. “Well, THIS certainly is NOT all right!”, I thought. I wonder if he could fathom how I would be twisted by his loss. I wonder if his relationship with me was as confusing as I felt mine was with him? That summer was the first 2 months I’d ever really spent with him and now it was Christmas and he was going away. How did we say good-bye? Had’nt we just met?

Simon found some action to take. Something to do. Sure you can’t bring anyone back. You can’t make it all right. It’s not. But you can keep a promise. Beyond all the fun we’ve had together this last week; Beyond two strangers seperated by a common language trying to make a go of a few days in close proximity; floating around the laughs, the caves, the photos, and the beer; and around all of the “kayak related goofing off”, is that promise. I didn’t catch that right away. Suddenly here I find myself thinking of my father who died when I was just 14. I imagine how Simon must have felt at the loss of his brother. How odd in some ways this journey must seem to him sometimes. I think I was missing the message. Or at least avoiding it for my own sake. But I got it now. I’m really proud of Simon. I doubt I’ll be able to say “cheers” over that bottle of Corona with lime without just a little admiration slipping through. Just a pinch anyway.

As for me, I doubt I’ll paddle around some big island any time soon. I don’t know if I’ll raise money or fight for a cause. I don’t know. I’m not sure my father would have understood the concepts. But I did promise him that it would be all right. And that’s probably a good place to start.

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Please take a moment to donate to Kayaking For Cancer if you can. Thanks.

Wow, time to head back south already. From the front end it seems like you’re waiting forever to finally drop your kayak on the beach, then suddenly you’re packing up to leave. I think that’s why I don’t spend to much time anticipating the future. The future is usually gone before you realized it came. I thought about that as I walked past all the old crumbling boats lined up along Manypenny Avenue. Someone spent a lot of time planing and building these once living craft. Yet, now their ribs lie open on a dead end street.

We launched out from Little Sand Bay under a gray shroud and began the almost 2 mile crossing over to Sand Island. Superior has been kind to us in that she never sent much beyond a two foot swell our direction. But the morning she did seem moody and I could’nt help but note her power. Soon we were paddling east along the island and exploring more of the famous Apostle Islands caves. Each little arch and tunnel challenged us to pass. Simon would go first. I assumed that if he lived, I could give it a go next. Usually you could pass through even the lowest arch with little problem. On occasion a larger wave would rush in just to keep you alert. Your kayak would lift toward the ceiling for just a moment before the wave would blast back out of a nook with the sound of cannon fire.

After some time mucking about in the caves we saw the Sand Island light house sneaking out beyond the trees to our north. Between us and the light, a line of larger waves rose from the otherwise calm lake following a shallow ridge into the shore. Simon did his best to surf the lake waves when he could catch one. On a side note, when you take a picture of someone surfing backwards. . ., you often can’t tell they’re moving.

The sun was kind enough to come out as we landed on a secluded horseshoe beach. It was time for a short siesta in the sun. You don’t dare rest too long for fear of having your energy zapped from you. Within an hour we again launched out in to the lake that was now just starting to show some white caps as the wind picked up. We continued west through some powerful slop. The wind at our backs made our rate speed of 7.5 km feel leisurely.

Around the west end of the island we were protected from the wind and the sun again cut through the clouds. For a time the world was calm, bright and beautiful. We paddled across a shallow bay watching the shadows of our kayaks glide across the rippled sand below. Beautiful! But it was not to last. After sliding past a lonely wood and stone break wall we left the protection of the island and were again slogging through wind and chop. Now to our backs a storm seemed to be closing in just as we made the final turn to begin the main crossing home. Along the way the lake kept trying to push us of course. The kayaks worked to hold a line across small but irritating waves. In the end we slipped onto the sandy beach just as the distant hills were disappearing behind the on-coming rain. We loaded the Jeep and headed back into Bayfield for a late supper at a local pink flamingo infested restaurant. Just as we opened the door to go in the wind picked up and it began to pour. .

Oh, by the way, do you know what you do when you’re inside, beat, and it pouring outside? Build a quick website of course!! http://www.kayakingforcancer.co.uk/

So off we go back Baraboo for a day, then Friday morning we’ve got to meet the Lake Express Ferry in Milwaukee at like 5am. Yippie!!

Well it took me forever to post something didn’t it?? All is well up here in Bayfield, Wisconsin. Yesterday we toured Living Adventures near Red Cliff and were amazed by the size of their facilities. From kayak maintainence to food preperation they have everything coming together like clock work for the new season.

Simon and I then took the rest of the day to explore the mainland sea caves. With only a slight bit of swell we were able to zoom in and out of the chambers and through the many arches. What a great time! I’ll post more photos when I get back, but for the moment here’s a shot of Simon through one low arch.

So I see a bunch of bloggers all dropping offline to actually go do what we write about doing. . Go Paddling! Me too. BUT! While up on Lake Superior we have WiFi access. . So maybe I’ll share some photos from the front. . if I’m not passed out from total exhaustion or from emptying that flask of Jamieson I just filled up!

Right now is when I do all the prep. Everything’s getting cleaned, packed and organized. The charts are being marked up and waypoints fed in. Sunday I start packing it all in the beast. Then hopefully most of the gear will stay there until about mid-July. Well, other than the laundry and old junk food wrappers. They may stay until September!

One of the major tasks this year was to be sure I could fit 3 kayaks on my roof. Well, In the end it has to be 2 up and one down, or one up and two down. Otherwise they’ll be swapping gel coat the whole way. After about 3 games of load/unload we finally figured that bit out.

Next I had to clean up the boats. My poor warhorse was a real embarrassment. But with about 2 hours of heavy duty rubbing compound, Scooby Doo Bubble Gum Flavored Toothpaste and an old tooth brush, a little wet sanding, and finally a coat of 303, the old dog now looks only 10 years old instead of 12. It actually is a bit brighter.

Now here’s something funny. Last December we bought Mary an old Greenlander. You may remember. I’d really never seen one up close before. I’d paddled the pro version but this old dog seemed a little different. So I sent out an email to NDK and asked if they had changed the design much over the years, how the wire skeg was holding up, and for any other info that might help me get to know the new (to us) kayak. I can bet when Simon was replying with a one off, “Enjoy your new boat” he had no clue he’d be paddling it in just a few months!! Small world. Well, I thought I had better give it the once over before he gets in it. Wouldn’t want to sink the poor kid. Not sure if he can take immersion in fresh water!

So, to steal a line from Hans and Bonnie . . “gone paddling”. .

So here is my promised showing of RW’s new Valley Anas Acuta. Off hand it seems like there are a lot of them finding homes recently. I wonder if it’s just a biased impression, or maybe the growth of traditional kayaing bringing the Acuta back into vogue?? Gotta ask the guys at Valley.

Rowland provided shots of all his little customizations that we may want to steal, rip-off, nic, copy, or ignore completely!. . Hey, that seat layout looks familiar! You’ll notice among other things, he added wear pads at the points where the spare paddle would rub on the deck. There are a few different solutions out there. Rowland used motorbike tank protector film on the Rapier & Mini-cell strips on the Acuta. What I noticed right off was his little Inukshuk near the bow. He tells me that he’s talked to his Inukshuks in the past when the water got a bit lumpier than he was happy with. OK, now that is a most sensible recommendation in my book!! I’m installing an Inukshuk on all my boats. Maybe before Monday!!! Thanks Rowland. . .