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More on the oil spill

Stay classy, Enbridge.

Trip Report Day Four: Hurricane Ridge

We went sea kayaking at Freshwater Bay in the morning -- I don't have any photos of the trip, because I didn't want to risk the camera to my clumsiness. The trip was great, and we saw all sorts of wildlife we'd never seen before -- pigeon guillemots, rhinoceros auklets, and a mother harbor seal carrying her pup on her back. The seals followed our boats in quiet curiosity, disappearing backwards into the water whenever we noticed them.

The kayak-tour company (which we recommend wholeheartedly) shared a building with a winery, so at the end of the trip we got to sample some nice local wines, and wound up getting a bottle to share later.

Afterwards, we drove up to Hurricane Ridge and did some hiking, which is where these photos are from.

Closer to home

Man, the Kalamazoo River oil spill is just heartbreaking. Nearly a million gallons of crude, dumped right in my back yard, gives me new respect for the horror the Gulf Coast's been going through. Terrible pictures of oil-slicked Canada geese and muskrats are everywhere, and the beautiful river I'd been hoping to kayak tonight is ruined all over again.

Poor Kalamazoo River. It's been the dumping grounds for all sorts of heinous shit for as long as western settlers have been here. Things were finally looking up -- after years and years of Superfund cleanup and local efforts, the river was clean enough to sport and play in, again. Festivals, like Kanoe the Kazoo, sprang up in an effort to lure residents, long taught to avoid the smelly watershed, back to the rejuvenated river. And now it's all gone, those years of effort will have to start all over again, thanks to one company's negligence.

The summer-long Kalamazoo Water Festival -- sponsored by the watershed council -- couldn't be more timely. Maybe the last few events of the year will be turned into volunteer cleanup parties. God knows we'll need it.

I confess that I'm kind of scared to volunteer, myself, though this is kind of thing is right up my alley. But something's got to be done, and we can't count on the folks who made this mess to clean it up.

Trip Report Day 2: Forts Worden and Flagler

On the second day of our trip we got up early, had a nice breakfast with Dave and Brenda, and then drove and ferried our way out to Port Townsend for an Orca Tour. Alas, there was a gale warning, and so the tour didn't go -- so we decided to hike out to nearby Fort Worden, which has been turned into a nature preserve, and also has a really super Marine Science Center, which I wholeheartedly recommend to any fellow visitors who are big nature nerds like me.

Our next stop was nearby Fort Flagler, on Marrowstone Island, a short and beautiful drive away.

And we're back!

Paul and I returned on early Wednesday morning from a beautiful wonderful awe-filled trip to Seattle and Olympic National Park. I'd have liked to've had a post up sooner, but between all the catching up required during the return to real life and processing through the three gigs of pictures I took, I haven't had a chance to sit down and blog yet.

But! Tonight we had another lovely night of kayaking; we explored Hogset and Gourdneck lakes tonight and found the noodly little passages that connect them to all the other lakes in the area. We ran out of time with the sunset fast approaching, but that just means we'll have more adventures soon. We also found a huge stand of delectable blackberry bushes, their fruit hanging low and enticing all the way down to the water, with the last berries submerged. Each fruit was the size of the top joint on your thumb, and since they were growning on state land, we each helped ourselves to a lovely purple-stainy handful.

More soon...

A midsummer night's moon

Last night, Paul and I took our kayaks out to Sugarloaf lake to watch the sunset and moonrise. It had been a gorgeous day, the edge was finally coming off the heat and humidity, and we both needed a break after a long, hectic and sometimes frustrating week. What a break it was.

We launched the boats just as the sun was disappearing behind the trees -- did some exploring in the gloaming, poking around in reedbeds on water so still and quiet that it seemed a shame to dip your paddle in in and break the mirror-smooth surface. There was no wind at all, and I could turn around and see my wake's turbulence crisscrossing Paul's in perfect symmetry. The lake was as warm as bathwater, and as the air temperature dipped, a soft white mist began to creep over the edges, giving the night an even more beautiful feel.

We were impatient for the moon to rise, and while we sat in our kayaks listening to the powerboaters motor home and slapping mosquitoes, our buddy R came zooming across the length of the lake toward us, a little green lightstick strapped to her bow. Kayak rave!

No sooner did R arrive than we all turned around and saw the enormous, pumpkin-orange moon rising through the trees. It's a stunning, breathtaking thing to be out on perfectly still water, without a breath of wind, and watch a giant full moon break the horizon, reflected perfectly in the water. It's like going to a kayak-in movie.

Once the moon was up, we had more light to see by, and so we slowly took the passage between the two lakes, taking our time and watching the show. There was a father swan in front of us, who kept making this very Angry Swan Noise at us. We tried to give it a berth, tacking away from him, but he kept running along the surface in parallel with us, honking and making that bizarre little frustrated chirp. Finally, through the dark, we noticed his mate and their cygnets trying to make a getaway in the exact same direction we were going. So we turned around and the swans left us alone. Good thing, too -- those things can put up one heck of a fight.

On our way back, we frustrated the beavers, instead. There were at least two of them out, and again, though we kept trying to cut around them, we were treated to a few angry tail-slaps.

We took our time getting back once we were out of the passage, and put the boats on the car at about 11pm, under the moon gone all butter-yellow. It may have just been a paddle on an ordinary lake we've visited several times before, but it was an incredibly beautiful experience, and exactly what I needed this week.

Powah Owt

Just back from an absolutely lovely weekend at Paul's parents' cottage on Lake Michigan. The ride over there was a bit interesting, in that we drove through a storm so severe that it threatened to take the kayaks right clean off the car, so we spent about a half-hour hiding under a bridge until it passed.

When we got there, we discovered how hard-hit the coast was -- there were really huge trees tipped over and snapped off all over the place. Trees you couldn't put your arms around, snapped in half, halfway up their trunks. Limbs down everywhere. As you might imagine, there was no power anywhere. The cottage was unscathed -- good news, considering that last year it took a direct tree-limb hit to the roof.

Fortunately for us, the cottage without power isn't all that different from the cottage with power. The water still ran, so we had a working sink, a flush toilet and (cold) showers, which was a blessing. My only concern was for the pair of gorgeous 16-oz porterhouse steaks that I'd brought along -- no power meant no refrigeration or stove, and they were already fully defrosted. Paul's folks are resourceful and wise, and in addition to the standard oil lamps, candles and flashlights, a little snooping turned up a small charcoal grill and some briquettes. I had to light a wood fire to get the damp briquettes going, but eventually we roasted dinner up right, and let me tell you, necessity does more than just breed invention, it also cooks much better steaks than in an electric stove. Paired with a good bottle of table red and some sweet potatoes we wrapped in foil and roasted on the dying embers, the steaks made a meal fit for kings, and boy was the dog happy with the bones. The only bummer was that rather than night-insects, we got to fall asleep to the constant hum of our neighbors' gas generators.

The following morning we stress-tested the kayaks in the post-storm waves. It was so much fun having some actual swells to sport and play in. We paddled a good couple of miles, took a nap and read for a bit, then came back down to do a long sunset paddle. The sea (it's not a lake, seriously guys) had calmed down to nearly glass-smooth -- practically no waves at all -- and the sky put on the most amazing, gorgeous show for us, complete with high, bright first-quarter moon. Simply breathtaking. Sunday's paddle got cut a bit short due to what looked like an oncoming storm (turned out to be nothing, after all), but we also got in some rescue practice in moving water, which is a good thing, considering we're going to be sea kayaking for real in a few weeks.

How lucky and blessed we were to spend a weekend reading and soaking up nature, without any electronic distractions. Considering how much time I've spent online (for both work and play) in the last month, it was the best possible vacation.

Tweetle beetle puddle paddle battle

Paddled a good two and a half hours on Thursday night on Sugarloaf lake. Paul and my coworker J. each got to launch their boats on their maiden voyage, and they both had a great time. R. brought along a new friend and showed us how she learned to roll last week at the symposium (I'm so jealous!). The swans were out with their fluffy grey cygnets, we briefly saw the beaver, and this time we found his lodge. We also saw a raccoon go for a swim -- a long one, which is a little odd, but not unheard of. Oh, and the bugs were finally out in force, after a very cold spring. Midges and skeeters and dancing waterbugs, oh my.

Today, Paul and I went down to Long Lake and took a really excellent workshop with my coworker K., who's one of the primary reasons I got into this goofy sport in the first place. We learned better turning control -- edging into sweep strokes and bow rudders and hanging draw strokes (which are totally cool; you make the boat go sideways while you're moving. Not turn the boat -- just make it go sideways. Awesome.) and then did a bunch of rescues. One thing I'm looking forward to now that the water's nice and warm is just goofing around with the boat. Learning how far over I can edge it without going in, bracing when I do get too far over, self-rescuing (I'm getting pretty good at a cowboy scramble, for what it's worth -- though it sounds like something you should order at Denny's, not do with a kayak) and just generally getting more comfortable with it. It's a very stable boat, which is both a blessing and a curse, and figuring out the secondary stability's a bit tricky -- but the process sure is a lot of fun.

Kayak Petting Zoo

Lee's had a huge boat demo today, and Paul went shopping for a kayak. We test drove all sorts of models, from plastic canoes to little twirly creek boats to 18' fiberglass touring boats that'll set you back four grand (and that's before you get to the kevlar option). After trying many many boats, Paul finally settled on a Pungo 140, with an additional bow bulkhead that Lee's will install. And hey James! You and Paul can be boat buddies now.

Even after padding in all sorts of spendy fancy boats, it turns out that I'm really happy with my Tsunami. It's a good little boat, with excellent stability (it *is* kind of a pain in the ass to edge it, but I'll take that in favor of having a solid seat in the water -- for now anyway), it's roomy enough for my backside, and it's a joy to paddle. I had some real fun in it on Thursday night, threading it through a couple of tight strainers, and getting a feel for what the boat could really do. Of all the boats I test-drove, I really enjoyed the P&H Cetus the most -- but between its cost and the extra fussing I'd have to give a 'glass boat, I strongly doubt I'll be trading in my big red plastic tank anytime soon.

I also looked in the mirror today and discovered that my wobbly bingo wings were gone, in favor of nice tight muscle. Nothing sculpted or defined -- my arms are still big and roundish -- but they're on their way. And that's a darn good feeling.

The heron tree

Paddled the same stretch of the Kalamazoo River again tonight -- another beautiful evening filled with wildlife sightings, including another bald eagle.

We did see something really amazing, though -- The Heron Tree. It's something that the guy who owns the D-avenue put-in had told us about. It's hidden on the far side of an island, which is why me missed it last time. It's this tall thin tree in which at least thirteen great blue herons have nested, with another dozen or so nests scattered in nearby trees. It's just amazing to see such huge birds way up in the treetops, holding their strange grunting conversation between themselves. The nests are these loose piles of sticks that don't seem capable of holding hatchlings up, let alone a five-foot bird with a six-foot wingspan.

We had fun investigating some close places, and the water was so high and fast that we all got hung up a couple times, but we eventually all got untangled and back to the take-out. Good times.

Of river poet search naivete

Paddled a beautiful section of the Kalamazoo river tonight. We originally put in at D avenue -- there's a very kind gentleman who makes his land accessible to the public, with hand-lettered signs saying "Welcome canoes, kayaks and boats" and "Parking $1.00 per car / put-ins $1.00 per boat / Please be honest" We had a nice chat with him before getting our boats in the water.

The original plan was to paddle upstream until our arms gave out, then have a nice leisurely float back downstream.

Well, it turned out that between the rain-heavy river current, the wind blowing in our faces, and my still-primitive kayaking skills, the river kicked my butt in ten minutes flat. I was paddling as fast and as hard as I could, and was just barely holding still, the swift current turning my boat closer and closer to shore. I was pretty afraid that the current was going to sweep me away before i could do anything about it.

So we put back in, threw both kayaks on top of R's car, and drove upstream aways to another park. We put back in and floated back down to the original put-in. Ironically, the river narrowed drastically just before where we put in, and was the fastest part of the whole trip! If I'd just been strong enough to paddle that first 100 yards, I could've easily made it as far upstream as I felt like going. Still, it was a good idea to play it safe, because I'd never done that part of the river and R had only done it once.

The trip downstream was a lovely one. We saw some pretty impressive wildlife, on top of all the usual ducks and geese: a small herd of whitetail, at least a dozen great blue herons, something that was probably a river otter, and at the very, very end, a mature bald eagle. What a treat! This kayaking stuff is awesome.

Gathering mushrooms-o

I went mushroom hunting last night and found a bag full of False Morels (Verpa Conica). I identified them with help from Director Dan and his five mushroom books. I'm still a little wibbly on eating them, so I gave them to the coworker who told me about the hunting spot. He says he eats them all the time, and maybe he'll swap me some true morels later in the season.

Sugarloaves

Went kayaking again tonight, out at the Sugarloaf Lakes south of town. I went out with my new friend R, who I met through one of the pool sessions and who's a great paddling buddy. There aren't many other women to whom I can say -- without a trace of irony -- "Hey! I just found out about this really awesome swamp nearby! Wanna go check it out?" and have her say "Awesome! Let's go tonight!"

So we had a great couple of hours on a glass-still lake. The Sugarloaves are a treat to paddle because they're so clear and shallow; the water's as transparent as air. We saw some wildlife I've never seen before: an American Bittern and a huge beaver. I've only seen live beavers one other time, and that was in Kitchener, Ontario, and they were surrounded by birch trees they'd gnawed down to make their lodges and dam -- so I was really surprised to see one trucking along in the swamp, far from any trees. At first we thought it was just an enormous muskrat, but then it slapped its huge tail on the water as it submerged. It must have weighed at least thirty pounds, and made quite a wake as it swam away.

While we were in one of the shallow, hidden cattail coves we surprised an enormous snapping turtle. He hunkered down under the water, pressing his huge shell -- the size of a chair seat -- into the mud. Heading into the narrow passage, I saw the same mama Canada goose I'd spotted the last time I was out, her long neck snaked protectively over her nest in the exact same position I'd seen her in two weeks ago.

We also found a noodly little passage that went nowhere but was fun to navigate -- by the end R had taken her paddle apart and was poling her boat like a gondolier, and I was pulling myself along by grabbing handfuls of dead cattail stalks on either side. On the way back we rounded a turn and surprised a pair of sandhill cranes standing on a little patch of ground not fifteen feet from us, all toasted-cheddar-brown in their spring plumage. We got really quiet and paddled carefully, and they stayed where they were, arching their long necks and cocking their lipstick-red heads at us until we moved out of sight.

We pulled in as dark was gathering, under the light of a half-moon so bright it cast shadows. What a great way to spend the day.

Wild life

On last night's paddle, we went back to Morrow Pond, the same place we ended up after last week's river expedition. We went from the put-in up to the nearest bridge, then turned around and did some investigating in the (very) shallow water of the surrounding marsh. Most times the water was only five or six inches deep, and on our meanderings we saw a whole bunch of wildlife: herons, ducks, geese, swans, muskrats, huge leaping fish (hope they're not Asian Carp), a snapping turtle with a head as big as my fist, and one turtle that looked just like an army helmet. While Paul was helping me take the kayak off the car in the driveway, we also saw a pair of screech owls in the trees, hunting bats. Awesome.

Add it up

I paddled twice this week, around five miles each time, and today I did a twelve-mile bike ride with a friend. So counting all the walking and biking I did in the mornings, I've traveled at least fifty miles under my own power this week. Neat.

Yet more skiing

Spent about three hours out skiing today. The weather was very warm for skiing, nearly 40F, and if we'd had to break trail we'd never have been able to move. Good thing for us that the trails were so well tamped down from constant use, and the track was a delight to use.

Last night was a similar story; I rounded up a few friends and we went to Kleinstuck nature preserve, which was icy as a luge track. We only got in two laps because it was misting light rain. Sadly, it was so overcast that we didn't see the full moon, and probably won't see it tonight, either. Still, it was a lot of fun, and I got to put my new headlamp to good use.

Ski ski ski

Had a too-brief skiing expedition this morning, hoping to get some more in tomorrow. Also currently recruiting for nightskiing on the full-moon weekend of the 27th-28th, provided the snow sticks around. If you're in the area, and interested, drop me a line.

Skiing with Dan

Dan: Okay, here's a map. We're here. We can take this trail or that one. That one's prettier, but it's going to be harder; you may have to take off your skis for part of it.

Me: That's okay. The scenery's more important than my dignity.

Dan: In fact, I think I can see on this map where you left your dignity. Back there at the bottom of the hill.

Me: I usually don't fall unless I intend to. It was either that or run into those saplings.

Dan: Yeah. You made the right call, provided you don't mind the bruises.

Me: I don't mind them much, but sometimes they freak Paul out.

Dan: Just tell him to use them as a Rorshach test.

Me: Yeah, but then he'll want to make drawings out of them. When Paul's drawing on my ass with a Sharpie marker, I'll know who to blame. "Hey look, this one's an alien!"

Dan: An alien that gets more jaundiced as the days go by.

Me: ... from the flu we gave him when he tried to invade.

Dan: ...

Me: I am so blogging this when I get home.

Meat harvest!

Looks like we're not going to have to buy a beef share this year -- my dad lets a bunch of guys hunt on his land, and they just brought him a nice young doe. I've paid for processing, an we'll have venison all year long. Yay!

Skiing the Nature Center

Spent a lovely afternoon skiing today. Went to the Kalamazoo Nature Center with my buddy Dan, and got in at least two hours' worth, maybe a bit more. The sun was shining, the snow was just perfect, and we arrived back at the car just as the last pink light was fading from a mackerel sky. Saw lots of birds, starting with a big blue heron hunkered down by an open stream. We flushed an enormous hen-turkey -- probably a good twelve pounder -- and marveled at the heavy thump of her wings as she got off the ground. A large flock of Canada geese went past, low and loud enough that we could hear the whistling of their feathers. Best of all, I saw my very first Pileated woodpecker. I've been wanting to see one since I first read a story about them in Ranger Rick magazine when I was about seven, but have never been lucky enough until today. They're enormous, just a bit smaller than their more famous (and likely extinct) cousin the Ivory-billed woodpecker, and really impressive to see in flight. They have a lovely laughing call that we heard several times as we skied through the woods.

The mice were busy on the prairie preserve, and there were plenty of footprints with little tails dragging behind, moving between switchgrass and wild rye to harvest seeds. The deer were out -- we didn't see any, but did see plenty of fresh tracks, and the turkeys had been following the freshly-broken trail left by the snowshoers and skiiers (They're no dummies, Dan remarked). As we left, we passed three young guys in Carhartts, armed with snow shovels and sleds heading out to get in some crazy night sledding, which reminded me of all the crazy night sledding we used to do in Ypsi: sled shrapnel and stolen Taco Bell trays and Russ up to his shins in the Huron chasing after his saucer sled and Eric getting three seconds of hangtime before coming down right on his coccyx.

Good times.

And then I came home and made three kinds of cookie dough, for the big annual bakefest tomorrow. More on that, later.

Ottawa Marsh

This morning, I spent five hours kayaking in the Ottawa Marsh. Saw lots of Great Egrets, kingfishers, ducks of all sorts, and three juvenile bald eagles. Had no idea they have so much white on them when they're that age.

View Larger Map

I hooked up with a group of like-minded folks I met on the Internets and was very glad to be along for the paddle. We put in at 126th and Old Allegan road and pretty much went from one end of the marsh to the other and back again. There wasn't very much open water, and I had a couple of times where I got hung up on sunken logs because my kayak was too long. Made it through with some creative paddling -- even went through one logjam backwards!

One of the highlights of the trip was maneuvering our way through some tight fits in a shallow maze of trees that looked like something out of a Brian Froud book. At one point we were flanked right and left by trees that had been toppled over into the water, their huge root systems still intact and forming a narrow passage between them Two ten-foot walls of dirt and exposed roots. And the best part was that the trees were still alive, though half-submerged. All the branches that were above water still had green leaves on them, turning autumn colors. There was also a tree that had tipped over -- but as it fell, its enormous root system folded on itself, forming an inverted-V of earth large enough to paddle through. Amazing.

I wasn't brave enough to risk any of my own electronics on the trip, but some of the other paddlers took some photos, so I'm hoping to post some of them soon.