On Kayaks

Monday, June 29th, 2009. Qiperuussineq paatit ammorluinnnaq.

2009-06-30T00:11:49Z

Quite an easy one in my hot pursuit of Greenland rolls: Sculling with the paddle held vertically.
Setting up with palms facing to the gunwale and the upper hand level with the forehead. Immersion. Scull sweeping the paddle blade parallel to the keel. Recover lifting the paddle vertically out of the water.
Just watch Turner.

Friday, June 26th, 2009. Laconic.

2009-06-27T00:29:04Z

A laconic statement is a very succint, terse phrase. The term derives from the Greek Lakōnikos which is derived from Lakōn, “a Laconian, a person from Lacedaemon,” the name for the region of Greece of which Sparta was the capital. As a derivation, a laconism is a figure of speech in which someone uses very few words to express an idea, in keeping with the Spartan reputation for austerity
Adding to their reputation of their sternest discipline and ardour for action, the Spartans attended since they entered the agoge a careful instruction in mathematics, music and verse, being rigorously punished when they failed to master wit and rethoric.
After the agoge, young Spartans sought to be admitted into public mess halls divided into tables of fifteen me where they learned how to talk politely and to the point like men. Especial importance was giving to habits of grace and good-breeding in conversation, encouraging frankness and accepting jokes with good humour.
The Spartan public educational system, the agoge, was admired almost universally by contemporaries, from historians such as Herodotus and Xenophon to philosophers such as Plato and Aristotle. The pertinence and sharpness of Spartan wit were so widely admired that ancient Greek scholars collected “Spartan sayings” and the “Laconic” style of speech was studied and imitated in intellectual circles, carrying Plutarch as far as to claim that devotion to the intellect is more characteristic of Sparta than love of physical exercise.
There are other two traits in Spartan conduct that makes it hard not to admire their hars, strenous lives of cruel freedom: First, humour was so important in Spartan life that it was the common tactic to gently shame anyone who did not conform to their rueles. Spartans went as far as to discern a good sense of humor as one of the criteria to select their leaders. Second, they found repugnance in defiling good manners or grace.
Here there are some magnific samples:

A witticism attributed to Lycurgus, the legendary lawgiver of Sparta, was a response to a proposal to set up a democracy there: “Begin with your own family.” (Plutarch: Life of Lycurgus).
Also from Herodotus: “When the banished Samians reached Sparta, they had audience of the magistrates, before whom they made a long speech, as was natural with persons greatly in want of aid. Accordingly at this first sitting the Spartans answered them that they had forgotten the first half of their speech, and could make nothing of the remainder. Afterwards the Samians had another audience, whereat they simply said, showing a bag which they had brought with them, ‘The bag wants flour.’ The Spartans answered that they did not need to have said ‘the bag’; however, they resolved to give them aid.” (Herodotus The Histories, Book 3, section 46).
One famous example comes from the time of the invasion of Philip II of Macedon. With key Greek city-states in submission, he turned his attention to Sparta and sent a message: “If I win this war, you will be slaves forever.” In another version, Philip proclaims: “You are advised to submit without further delay, for if I bring my army into your land, I will destroy your farms, slay your people, and raze your city.” The Spartan ephors sent back a one word reply: “If.” Both Philip and Alexander would subsequently avoid Sparta at all. (Garland, Robert, 1998-08-30. Daily Life of the Ancient Greeks. Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press. page 81).

Monday, June 22nd ¡, 2009. Nive Nielsen.

2009-06-23T01:14:05Z

As a postgraduate project for her degree in Goldsmiths, University of London, Nive Nielsen, a singer from Nuuk, Greenland, recorded last year in Qaqortoq a short documentary titled “Qajaq (GL)” on the traditional kayak for the Centre for Visual Anthropology.
Before the well-conducted interviews with Kamp Absalonsen and Maligiaq Padilla, it is specially endearing the footage of Efraim Adolfsen, an old kayak hunter whose eldest brother died kayaking.

Sunday, June 21st, 2009. Kingumut naatillugu.

2009-06-22T00:02:46Z

Splendid news. A new dominical roll. You all can rest easy again.
As a succession from the chest scull, I attained a monumental success in the reverse sweep roll.
Hurrah and pip pip.
To celebrate it I have instructed my tailor to create a celebratory tuiliq made entirely of printed pages of The Masiq. I do not expect it to last very long but I feel the message is clear.

Friday, June 19th, 2009. Symbols and abbreviations.

2009-06-20T00:05:31Z

Someday when planning a trip in an unfamiliar area unusual abbreviations on the seabed or on a beach considered for an escape route, may draw our attention and the chart might offer little help to understand a complex traffic separations scheme.
For instance it took me long to figure out that the initials DW in the diagram above stand por deep water, and I could have spent ages to learn that the arrows with discontinuous traces mark the recommended direction of traffic flow for ships that do not need a deep water route.
Never would I have formed the conjecture that a bracket under a wreck (Wk) meant as in the illustration above, means that its last known depth was measured by having been swept by wire drag or diver.
No way neither to have guessed that S/M stands for two layers of sand over mud, or that vard. cn. ml. stands for a rare seabed formed by varied cinders and marls. On the other hand I had already learned that Br stands for breakers, and abbreviation usually close to ddangerous underwater rocks or reef of known depth, or to rocks that covers and uncover at certain height above chart datum.
Clearly much of the information contained on charts is shown by symbols and abbreviations that sometimes are not the ordinary. The United Kingdom Hydrographic Office details them for the Admiralty charts - “trusted by mariners worlwide” - in a convenient A4 booklet known as chart 50011 because it was originally produced in chart format, descriptively titled Symbols and Abbreviations used on Admiralty Paper Charts whose latest edition is the fourth, printed on October 16th, 2008.
As for the United States, nautical symbols for the excellent charts both from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration and the National Geospatial-Intelligence Agency are explained in a reference publication known as Chart No. 1. No longer available in print, the current tenth edition dated in November 1997 of Chart No.1 is available as a download.

Wednesday, July 17th, 2009. Degen 1123.

2009-06-18T01:34:29Z

It is well known that I quietly outgadget my peers, In order to listen to the hypnotic shipping and inshore waters forecasts broadcasted on BBC Radio 4, as well as to amuse myself when away from the whining locals, for the mere sum of 55 dollars I have gotten myself this little pocket radiofrom a reputable seller in Hong-Kong.
The Degen DE1123 covers the range of 522-1710 kHz in longwave, shortwave from 2300 to 23000 kHz, and the FM band from frequencies 87 to 108 MHz. The radio has 225 memories and tunes manually to frequencies by up and down buttons and scanning. It also has a very fast ATS function that tunes automatically every available signal and stores them in memory. The DE1123 has a built-in battery charger for its three Ni-MH rechargeable AAA cells that I soon will change for the best performance of a Lithium-ion battery pack, and a MP3 player, that allows to record broadcasts in WMA files via an integrated microphone which should make the transcription of the forecast ducksoup. The size is a mere 2.7 x 4 x 0.6 inches.
For anyone who may care about it, the radio features can get complicated. It sports both DSP and PLL functions. The former being digital signal processing, a set of digital that convert signals from analog to digital, then manipulate them digitally, to be then converted again to analog form. The latter PLL stands for phase locke loop, and it helps to generate stable frequencies and recover signals from noisy communication channels.
I have shaked it and it looks as if it would work.
Let us see if it can tune from here to the 198 kHz frequency of BBC Radio 4.

Sunday, June 14th, 2009. Norsamik Nerfalallugu.

2009-06-15T01:54:41Z

A weekend went by working on a smoother sweep of the hand roll. Mixed success. Following Turner’s good advice, what has come out naturally from the butterfly roll is the layback norsaq roll. Just a matter of keeping the shoulders horizontal to the surface and arching the back as pressure is applied on the foot closest to the water, unfolding the wrist that holds with the palm up, the norsaq by its center.
I scare myself.

Sunday 7th, June 2009. Assammik nerfallaallugu.

2009-06-08T00:43:50Z

Good, good, good. The sweeping hand roll is accomplished. From palms down on the deck in the initial setup to unfurling the torso as it slowly swept on the surface with arms spread out and palms up. Someone should pat my shoulder.
Next aim: The elbow roll, where one hand clasps the nape of the neck with elbow raised upwards as the body and other hand sweep the surface, finishing in a recovery over the aftdeck.
Since in Armadale, I watched Sue performing it at her first attempt on her black and white kayak it dawned on me that the motion is but the same. Which might be true, but would I make it, that’d be the time to hit YouTube with something à la Riefenstahl.

Thursday, June 4th, 2009. British Canoe Manufacturers Association.

2009-06-04T22:56:39Z

This sticker in a P&H Iceflow reads: “The reflection of excellence. British Canoe Manufacturers Association”.
I had only seen before this adhesive logo in the photograph of a very old Nordkapp.
Beautiful. Classical. Deliciously vintage. The tang of the 70’s. In front of my very own eyes.
I doubt that the Association may still exist but one wonders if among piles of old boxes, Valley might still keep a few of them.
Just perhaps.

Tuesday, June 2nd, 2009. Back from Skye.

2009-06-02T21:03:54Z

I am back from am exuberant week in the Misty Isle. I admit that I enjoyed to the utmost the Scottish Sea Kayak Symposium. My first workshop was a lecture on expedition First Aid delivered by Roland Woolven, who happens to have worked in every WEMSI Wilderness EMT course in the United Kingdom, and much like the Queen’s commissioned officer that he is, carries with himself the tidiest display of both kit and kayaks. In short, his lecture drew my interest me so much that it prompted me to sign in for a First Responder course at the Glenmore Lodge.
This was followed on the next day by a session on the water led by Nick Cunliffe. It was all about Close Quarters Manouvering. Cunliffe not only performed plenty of his glorious low brace turns and reverse sweeps, inimitably tucked forward and leaning well over the water, but happens to look very much like a young Robert Mitchum in Palm waterproofs. I strongly think that he should go and do commercials. I wonder why is it that nobody had pointed it out before. I have heard also that his Mark Tozer impersonations are nothing but perfect which is something that I aspire to behold in some near future.
Then, the apotheosis: Endless sessions of dunking in chilly waters with Turner Wilson and Cherry Perry who were in the Symposium as contributors after a workshop where they helped to build three Greenland kayaks so handsome that they challenged my ideas about the stateliness and pleasing proportion and symmetry that our crafts should have.
Not only are Turner and Cherry a very endearing couple; they somehow managed to teach me the basics of forward finishing rolls, ending with me happily walking away with a grasp of the chest scull and a chest roll in the first session, and the definite purpose to attend their next kayak building workshop in Skye.
Incidentally, my progress in the first Greenland session was followed by the staccato of the cackle of a cute young woman, Justine Curgenven, who happens to be indeed very sweet, and travels about with a great chap named Barry whom I kept thinking to the very last day I had seen somewhere before. About that cackle: Having heard it so often before while I watched her Dvd’s, her piercing shrills gave to roll attempts a strong flair of hallucinatory surreality.
Finally, the assessment for the new 4 star performance award. I had an inauspicious start on the day tour before the assessment as I made a nice glaring error when I ended trailing my tow line looping across my aft deck and hull in a way that Gordon suggested that it looked quite much as if I were towing myself. The assessment was carried by Ken Nicol and Jas Hepburn, while two Level 5 aspirants - Roger Chandler and Callum - working towards their assessing qualifications, acted as observers. The aspirants were an assorted group of sea kayak guides from Wales and Scotland, and a good paddler from the Orkney Islands who looked very much like a friendly Scottish Tarzan. And as for the guinea pigs I have nothing but warm gratitude: They were just perfect.
But all this is all a story on its own.

Friday, May 8th, 2009. Operation Checkmate.

2009-05-08T13:54:37Z

As of recent, I came across in Foot’s biography with this riveting story of naval commando canoeists:
When the war broke out Sub-Lieutenant John Godwin, RNVR, sailed with his twin brother from Argentina in the first ship for Great Britain. In the navy he trained in small boat work where he performed with distinction, being appointed commander of a raid on the Norwegian port of Haugesun, at the end of the strategically sheltered sounds of Smedasund and Karmsund, through which ships could pass to the North protected from heavy seas.
In the briefings previous to the raid a small island off the port was chosen from air photographs and a lecture given on the MI9 doctrine of how to behave if by ill fortune his party would fell in German hands.
On the night between 29th and 30th of April 1943 Godwin set off in a coble with Victor John Cox, a sergeant from No. 12 Commando, two Naval Petty Officers and three seamen. A motor torpedo boat towed them and cast them off near the island where they hid with their canoes and kit. Soon, they started sinking ships with limpet mines until when attacking a German warship too big, they were overpowered and captured.
British Naval intelligence did not find them on any of the occasions a torpedo boat went over to bring them back, nor were they reported as prisoners of war.
Even as each man in the party wore British uniform, the German Navy had followed the infamous commando order issued in October 1943 and handed the party over the SS.
After a time a secret report went through of a charwoman in Grini prison near Oslo who had seen seven uniformed British sailors under guard before they had been sent to Sachsenhausen concentration camp, 35 km north of Berlin, and the training centre for Schutzstaffel (SS) officers. There, Godwin and his sailors were forced to test boots for the German Army for fourteen months, marching thirty miles a day around a cobbled track for fourteen hours a day. Reports emerged after the camp’s liberation that the British sailors kept themselves in good spirit and much to the annoyance of SS wardens and to the admiration of fellow prisoners, marched singing for hours on til the end.
On February 2nd 1945, their names were called for on the loudspeakers, in terms that made it obvious that it was their turn to be shot in the execution trenches. As they were marched away Godwin perhaps remembering the MI9 doctrine that capture did not mean at all that one was out of the war, at a hitch through one of the camp’s steel gates, reached over and grabbed the sidearm of the SS man in charge, shooting him dead. He was at once shot down by the submachine gunfire of the scort.
As the only officer present, the best he could be awarded in the absence of a senior officer to testify, was a posthumous mention in dispatches.
Yet still, a fabulous way to go.

Monday, April 27th, 209. The Hurricane Riders.

2009-04-27T22:00:00Z

From a tip by Mark Rainsley in the Inland forum of the UK Rivers Guide Book: A video made from the 2008 trips and play sessions of The Hurricane Riders, a group of Vancouver paddlers from the Deep Cove Canoe & Kayak Centre.
Shot by sea paddlers with that unmistakable white whater joie de vivre. From the start, watch a Werner paddle being thrown like a javaline, and then, at 0:39 into the footage, two seals emerging to the face a wave in the tide race and surfing it.

Sunday, April 26th, 2009. Blue birds fly.

2009-04-26T17:54:49Z

A blithesome weekend. The Friday onshore winds fetched enough to produce rough swell and long lines of spilling waves. The base of the cliffs spilt streams against the swell before crests could collapse, thrusting them upwards.
I stopped here and there to practice close turns. I worked draws, jams and pries. Lying in a balance brace, slack and face up to an overcast sky, I watched seagulls gliding back and forth in the airflow, then soaring with the rising air deflected upwards by the cliff face. So beautiful.
As in cue, the iPod shuffled to the next play list and played an unknown version of Candy Says, an old Velvet Underground song about Candy Darling, a merrily sad transvestite who in her own words looked quite much like a cross between Kim Novak and Pat Nixon. This time, sung by Antony Hegarty, words lingered in the updraft. My jaw dropped.

Saturday, April 17th, 2009. Rodrigo Leão.

2009-04-18T15:32:27Z

I just returned from a sleepy, slow paddle with friends from the local kayak club. I carried Andrea’s iPod in the H2O Audio case, pressed shuffle and most of what I got was Hanna Montana. Pretty unnerving. To escape boredom I played trying to keep deep edges for miles onward.
Tonight, I am off to a Rodrigo Leão concert with the pharmacist and his new freckled girlfriend.
She smells great.

Wednesday, April 15th, 2009. British Arctic Air-Route Expedition.

2009-04-16T01:55:03Z

The Scott Polar Research Institute has catalogued and made available on-line for research over 20,000 photographs from 1845-1960. Among the most visually impacting resources into British and international polar exploration, there are several of both Inuit and members of the British Arctic Air Route Expedition (BAARE) of 1930-31 rolling and hunting from their kayaks. The assimilation of Inuit skills by the expedition members most of whom lived in quasi-conjugal association with Inuit women, that these images show exceed the accounts that belittle the influence of British explorers, geologists and geographers in linking the Inuit origins of kayaking with the development of the modern sport.
Between 1930 and 1931 the British Arctic Air Route Expedition investigated a new and shorter air passage between England and Canada. This proposed air route that would cross the Arctic via the Faroes, Iceland, Greenland, Baffin Island and Hudson Bay before reaching Winnipeg was researched under the patronage of the Royal Geographical Society and support from the British Air Ministry, Admiralty and War Office. The aim of the expedition was to survey the least known part of the flight path, the east coast and central ice plateau of Greenland. By monitoring weather conditions, crossing the ice sheet by dogsled and aeroplane, as well as surveying part of the mountainous coast, it would report on flying conditions and the possibility of establishing an air base in the region. Organised and led by Henry (Gino) Watkins, the BAARE consisted of fourteen men with an average age of 25 and little Polar experience between them.
The expedition left London on the Shackleton’s old vessel, ‘Quest’, on July 6th, 1930, establishing a base camp 40 miles west of Angmagssalik (now Ammassalik). A station was also established 140 miles from base camp on the Ice Cap at the highest point on the proposed air route.
In the late summer 1931 a combined sledge and kayak journey was made across the Ice Cap from the base to Holsteinsborg on the west coast. A final trip by boat was made by Watkins and three others around the southeast coast to Julianehaab on the west coast. This was a journey of nearly 600 miles, made with minimal equipment and relying on hunting seals from kayaks and shooting birds for their food. Using skills they learnt form the local Inuit, this form of lightweight expedition added a new element in Arctic exploration.
The party returned in Autumn 1931 and the expedition’s success was acknowledged by the award to Watkins of the Hans Egede medal in Copenhagen and the founder’s medal from the Royal Geographical Society in London. In addition, the polar medal was awarded to all the Expedition members, the first for Arctic service for nearly sixty years.
After the first patrons reduced their support, the Air Ministry withdrew its patronage altogether, and some of the members of the original expedition ended in the pay of Pan American Airways, who employed them of further exploratory work in East Greenland.
Used copies in good state of Northern Lights: The Official Account of the British Arctic Air-Route Expedition written by Frederick Spencer Chapman with a foreword by Admiral Richard E. Byrd, still may be found.