Leaving from the Australian National Maritime Museum, in Cockle Bay, Australia on January 6, 2007, James Castrission and Justin Jones will attempt the first ever crossing of the Tasman sea from Australia to New Zealand by sea kayak.

We’ve all been talking about this trip for awhile now. It seems there is a certain palpable intensity to the “Crossing The Ditch” expedition. It could be just the immensity of the challenge. 2200km across the Tasman sea is no minor pleasure cruise. You got some sense of the seriousness of this when they delayed the trip until January to have a bit more time to get it right.

It could be the way this expedition was planned. Their uniquely professional approach became a featured article, “Lessons from Crossing The Ditch” by the Dynamic Small Business Network. (Certainly worth a read to anyone planning an expedition. (Or starting a business for that matter) DSBN noted how James & Justin used their university degrees and corporate experience to approach this expedition like a business venture. Something that is not so strange considering the over $180,000 that would be needed to make this attempt. About half of that was the cost of the kayak.

I’ve also been amazed by the incredible amount of technology brought to bear through the assistance of Race Recon. They have been providing assistance with project management, ground support, web casting, real-time tracking, interactive maps and much more. These guys defiantly got their ducks in a row.

On the sixth day of the new year all their months of in depth prep will come down to a big, white, supply laden, self-rightable custom kayak (see video describing the kayak) slipping into the sea. There will be no sails on this one. (something a bit un-Australian about that. . .) Just two humans under their own power, stroke by stroke, meter by meter, toward an unseen island somewhere out over an undulating eastern horizon. If all goes well, some 45 days later they will arrive on the coast of New Zealand wet, tired and looking for a pint.

I invite you to visit their website www.crossingtheditch.com.au. From here you will have an unprecedented opportunity to follow along on an amazing journey. Watch their web casts, follow their progress in real time, buy a t-shirt, and so much more. And don’t forget to check out their party pictures as well!!

The Crossing The Ditch challenge is being done in support of the Sydney Children’s Hospital Randwick and sponsored by these folks. I’m sure many of us from all over the world will be watching and wishing them every success. Good luck guys!!

thanks to james, justin & Race Recon for their help and use of the images.

There I stood, bathed in the amber glow of the Wisconsin State capitol dome. I stared from the balcony down into the universe of lights that decorated every dark emerald branch of the state tree. I felt dizzy. I can’t look over an edge too long. I backed away from the marble rail and stared up into the circular, hand painted heavens. Right there I had an epiphany.

I knew at that very moment, “I can change the course of everything”. Everything in my life anyway. “Everything before this moment must pass.” I thought. I looked down and noticed how the toes of my dress shoes matched the curve of the marble floor. “The future is in my very next step.” I was careful not to move my feet. “What”, I thought “…would my next step be?” The false candlelight twinkled it’s encouragement. I stood musing. Visions of far off places faded in and out of my mind, white sand beaches, palms and fern. Blue shoes and white shirt frolicked through my imagination like a mad fashion designer’s puppet show. I thought of love and romance. Considered lust. Only momentarily of course. I slipped into bright sunlight. I floated on a shoreline engulfed in colorful birds, screeching monkeys and manatees. Then I envisioned clouds and moss filled cobblestone. I saw a cold lake open into a raging sea. I saw myself sitting in a cold rain sipping hot tea as I watched water roll down a strangers reddening face. . . I could sense intrigue and affection. . . moments passed. .

Somewhere in the back of my mind I realized I felt a bit peckish. “hmmm,” I thought to myself, “How long have I been standing here?”. I pulled myself back to the moment. I looked past my camera that was sitting at the top of my Italian tripod like a Christmas tree star. I looked down. I set the aperture back. I took the shot. I looked again over my camera into glass and needle kaleidoscope tree. “Well? What is your next step derrick?” I asked myself. “Well”, I thought. “First I need to get something to eat. And a drink would be nice. . .. Of course it’s getting a bit late. I do have a busy day tomorrow. . . . “

I packed up my gear and was soon walking through a chilly mist down the massive marble steps of the capitol as a spot light cut through the haze and tickled the grey belly of the sky. Suddenly it was London. December 29th, 1940. I was walking down the steps of St. Paul’s. I paused to look back at the dome as it rose above the dragon breath smoke that filled the streets. A distant siren was quickly buried under the drone of bees rising from the south west. I hurried down to my jeep. On the radio the BBC was playing part of president Roosevelt’s earlier address from the white house, ” If Great Britain goes down, the Axis powers will control the continents of Europe, Asia, Africa, Australasia, and the high seas—and they will be in a position to bring enormous military and naval resources against this hemisphere. It is no exaggeration to say that all of us, in all the Americas, would be living at the point of a gun. . .” The reflection of a spot light flashed across my rear view mirror. . .

I looked up from the steering wheel and started the engine. Peter Gabriel came to life singing the “Berry Williams Show” That seemed about right to me. I sat for a moment and wondered about my little epiphany. “Something must change” I thought. I was still feeling a bit hungry. . . yet the future is out there. It’s close. I could wait to eat. . . I flipped on my blinker and merged behind a metro bus. I turned right toward the lake. A light turned green and I spun right and accelerated. My red tail lights shrank into the distance until they blended into the city lights. I disappeared.

Ok. I’ll admit it. I quit working at 3 yesterday. How opulent and lazy is that? I was toast. My nerves were gone. That happens sometimes when art becomes commercial. Funny the two things just don’t seem to have anything in common but some how they do. Thing is my “art” brain can never wrap itself about the commercial concept of “deadlines” or “perceived deadlines”. Sure, I can do it. But creativity on a dead line is like a walking race. It just doesn’t feel right. Yeah, I do love it, but it’s tense. Imagine trying to choose the most beautiful blue you can think of, And having to do it in less than a minute. Ahhhh. . .

So I go a bit haywire. I get the task done through sheer will and anxiety. Left and right brain do strange bloody battles as I work. When the task is done. I simply go mind bogglingly crazy. Loony. I have so much pent up energy I feel as if my deeply seeded fear of spontaneous combustion is finally going to come true. I pity the poor folks who have to cope with me when I’ve reached that end. I mean they can’t really tie me up. So they just tend to fade back and let me go. I mean, I don’t keep valium around the house and something needs to be done.

Corona happens to be just like valium. You just have to increase the dose to match the effect. It only took moments from me hitting the last sent button to zip out my completed work before I had my first liquid sedative popped. In only seconds more I was up and dancing around my office while “The Darkness” in glass shattering volume, were rolling through their most Spinal Tap-esqe song “Knockers”. Good follow up to my last two posts right? Well, I am multi-faceted after all! Like most humans I can move from the intellectual to the crass in no time flat. And when you’re stressed out and feeling crazy there is nothing like wildly dancing by yourself in your office while someone sings;

Odd how even when I’m rockin’ out to pure cheap, lusty, rock and roll I’m still finding songs about inadequacy. I’m sure I’m going to have to talk to some Freud wannabe about that one day.

Within an hour I’d mastered 3 bottles. By the second hour I’d moved on to number 6 and had been through the most high volume music I could find from Cake, Nirvana, Cheap Trick, Flogging Molly, Brad Sucks, Foo Fighters, Ani DiFranco, Duran Duran and everything else in between. My window was open and the cool winter air was rolling the the office and I was dancing myself into a crazy sopping sweat. I even managed to unintelligibly answer a couple emails in the midst of my frenzy. Hopefully the recipients just went, “Ah, derrick, yeah we’ll try this again tomorrow. . .”

Thing is, if I’m drinking I have to keep jamming. Otherwise before long I’ll end up offering to anyone in the audience “Derricks Introductory Lectures to the Injustices of the World and Varied Shades of Grey Solutions”. Most prefer my dancing. And that says a lot!

Being 41, by the time ten-o’clock rolled around I had burnt out exhausted on the living room floor. I went from dancing to “Alien Ant Farm” to watching an episode of “Jonathon Creek”. I passed out with some joy. Then, being a parent it was not long before I found myself sitting up with a coughing child watching Scooby Doo in a dark living room hoping he could find a way to get back to sleep.

Well, that brings us right here doesn’t it!? As I write this Beethoven’s Sonata in C Minor plays quietly in the background. I’m wondering if I have the energy to go to the pool. I wondering if all the stress of yesterday paid off. I wonder why I don’t get a real job. . .

There’s your little window in to life with derrick. . .

Ok, you’re probably thinking I’m going off on some “Girl Power” tirade. . but what’s wrong with that eh? Actually I’d been waiting for a good chance to show you this picture of Hadas Feldman of Israel. Proof that at least this sea kayaking super girl can indeed fly. Apparently there is some optical thing going on her as she jumps off the back of a sail boat but why spoil it!? By the way Terra Santa Kayak Expeditions in Israel, where Hadas is based, has re-dedicated their blog. For the moment at least it’s in English for use by lowly speakers of just one language. So check that out.

I thought about writing a long essay on how my day yesterday was just a tad stressful, but then I looked at this picture and thought; Well, if she can fly. . .

So can I.

*photo used by permission of Terra Santa Kayak Expeditions. Thanks Hadas!

So I’m sure you’ve noticed it too. 2006 was by all means a banner year for the women of sea kayaking. About bloody time too if you ask me. Hopefully those horror stories I’ve heard from female students about that “one” bullet head coach will be happening less and less. Personally I’ve been lucky to have had coaching from, and got to know some of these intelligent, gifted, strong, hilarious, wise, and dare I say, quite beautiful women (come on I’m male I can’t help it. . .). We’re certainly better off for having them around, even when the kayaks are in the shed.

And that seems a fair introduction to a new name for many of us, at least north of the equator, Sandy Robson. In just a few days Sandy will mark the 25th anniversary of Paul Caffyn’s journey around Australia in 1981 by launching out on her Australian quest. Her goal is to paddle as far as possible around the Australian Coastline in one year. This is defiantly her own personal dream, but she too has noticed that in her part of the world there’s still a lack of woman on the water. Sandy hopes to inspire more women to sea kayak and more importantly go after their dreams.

Now if you’ve read up on the history of kayaking around that part of the world, this is not a quest for the feint of heart. These are defiantly some of the more woolly seas our planet has to offer. Sandy will be launching her Mirage 580 from Queenscliff, in Victoria and head north, circumnavigating the continent counterclockwise. Her goal is to cover about 200 to 250 Km per week. That’s about 124-155 miles for us Americans. On the low end that’s like 17 miles per day 7 days a week. With a day or two off. .well there will be some long days in there. And of course, like any good Australian kayaker, she’s got her Mirage rigged to sail as well.

Sandy’s website is here. You’ll be able to learn more about her, and the expedition. You can also follow along with her trip journal as well. Remember this is a long haul. Be sure to keep checking in as the year goes on. While we chat about all the other great adventures throughout 2007, Sandy will be out there chugging along. Be sure to let her know once in a while that we’re thinking about her as the days turn to weeks and months. And for you Aussies, if you can help out a bit by volunteering with food drops or even a nice cooked meal along the way please send an email to robsos@penrhos.wa.edu.au. Sandy calls her little adventure “SLAP”, “Sandy’s Long Australian Paddle”. She’s not kidding!

Sandy would like to thank these guys;

Mainpeak
Australian Geographic
Sea to Summit
Wilderness Equipment
& West Coast Kayaks

Did I say once that only amazing people can dream amazing dreams? I can’t even imagine.

*photo of Sandy Robson used by permission. Thank you!!

Sometimes life is like a locker room. You know that bit where you come in after being totally wrapped up in our own endeavors and suddenly realize you are face to, ah. . naked hide of a perfect stranger!?? I think we’re always more comfortable with that when there are like 30 naked strangers running round than if it’s just you and this one other person with a big, odd looking birthmark on their bum. Worse yet is that strange scar that runs all the way up there left inner thigh and disappears in their nether regions. You find yourself wondering if the injury started at the bottom or top. Facinating! Either way they were certainly lucky to still have nether regions. I can remember that a high school locker room was the place you learned if your nethers were above or below average. Either your self esteem climbed a notch or fell into the abyss! And NO, we’re not going to go there!!!

As we get older we spend a lot of time in that locker room. We often find ourselves across tables of some sort looking at strangers wondering what to say, what will make us sound foolish or just dumb. I’m never out to impress, just survive. I’ve always envied a bit those loud boorish types who are so oblivious to social dances. They can just take over conversations and ramble on through the night without breaking for air. They don’t know they’re naked. But everyone else does. And it’s not pretty.

I remember how first dates were always like that. Yeah, I can remember back that far!! Not only are you naked (metaphorically of course), but you’re quite sure you have the most below average nethers ever seen by human eyes. Especially if you like the person you’re with. In fact your self-nether-perception, (or regression??) I think is directly related to how much you like the person you’re with. But as Silbs says, I digress. . . .You find yourself rambling or stammering with big pregnant pauses that, although you wish were for intellectual effect, are actually moments when your mind just checks out under the pressure. Just like the locker room you find yourself searching for topics to break the air. You talk absolute crap just to avoid the obvious. “Oh my god, we’re naked!!) The obvious is something you could never bring yourself to mention. You know, like asking, “So what’s with that big scar anyway??”, “I find it fascinating. . ” So instead you take time going over your personal resumes and go round the houses about subjects that you can’t quite come to. You talk about your own scars, you open passages for them to talk about theirs. You build a fortress for your own protection while at the same time try to lower the gates. You dance the dance. You play pscyological chess. You’d give anything to just know what they were actually thinking. Probobly the same things you are, but at the time you can’t conceive of that. If in the end, you survive that total internal humiliation and the phone rings another day you count it a victory. Personally my phone was always pretty quiet. . . I suppose I’m better at a distance. LOL!!

These days I’m sort of able to get passed the nakedness. I’ve worked in theatre and bartended enough in my life that if I feel my brain going on strike I can usually just fold into my inner bartender and become light amusement for the paying guests. I realize that most often the customers are at the bar for their own purposes. They don’t really care about the bartender. And that’s ok. Well, as long as the tips are good.

So what has this to do with kayaking? Well, I was thinking. Regardless of what you may have heard I’m not a good dancer. In life my kayak lets me stand by the wall so to speak. No one asks you to dance when you’re 3 miles off the coast. There’s no pressure to perform. (well, most of the time) But between you and I, I do like to dance. I just don’t think I’m very good at it.

Ok coaches, So here are 4 pictures of bow rudders. Which position is correct? A bow rudder of course is a way to turn your kayak quickly on the move while doing as little as possible to slow down the kayak. When I first learned a bow rudder I was taught to put the paddle shaft against my shoulder and lean forward. The logic was that your shoulder would give support against the force on the blade. Especially when riding down a wave. Then later I was shown how if you rest your arm against your head your blade tends to stay closer to the hull and comes back closer to the midpoint of your boat. So not so much a bow rudder as a midway-to-the-bow rudder. At this position my rudders became much sharper. Now I could get a 180 out of the boat without too much trouble. Often these days I’m a bit lazier and just hold my arm a bit forward of the shoulder which gives the same effect but does not give you the support against your body. It’s easy to drop the shaft against my body then if I need that support. I also learned that sitting forward does not mean leaning WAY forward, but just getting your weight a bit forward to allow the tail to slip around a bit easier. Of course when you get this all down, then you can toss in your edge to add more spin to the craft. Any thoughts?