The blog is back

We've been a bit postless for the past two months. Sorry. We were (obviously) busy. (Know anybody who isn't?)
In fact, taking a break helped us clarify why we blog. Over the summer, we used the blog to share our thoughts about kayaking, teaching people to kayak, and the paddling community. We used it to publicly ponder ideas, poke fun at ourselves and sometimes others, call attention to people and places and sometimes problems, and celebrate what we've learned and what we've done.
We were surprised and pleased by the response we got. In one month, more than 1,000 people visited our blog, even though we did little to promote it. We received thoughtful comments online and in person from people near and far, including some of the students in our classes. Clearly, something we were doing was entertaining, useful or both.
We continued padding after our last post, though not as intensely as during those two months, when padding was nearly a daily activity. Even now, with the air and water temperatures dropping, the days growing shorter and the shadows growing longer, we're out there in our dry suits, enjoying the relative solitude of Lake Michigan in the fall.

The days get shorter, the shadows get longer, and we get taller!

Starting now, we will do our best to post weekly. This blog will stay kayaking-focused; we won't subject you to random musings about life, the universe, brownies and all that. Rather, we'll continue the journey we began back in June, when we asked you to come with us on our quest to become better paddlers, better instructors and better bloggers.
So welcome back. We hope you visit weekly, comment occasionally, and benefit from what you find here.
--Sharon & Alec

An impromptu slalom course near a Chicago beach.

Building on a paddling community

Until this year, we've spent most of our extracurricular (non-teaching) paddling time working on our skills and enjoying the camaraderie of Chicago-area paddlers. But thanks to the symposia we've been attending, we've also made connections across the country, and we've begun seeking out our paddling partners when we travel.
On this trip, we were able to hook up with Frits Kwant (see Tuesday's post) as well as two other WMCKA paddlers we've long wished to spend more time with: Keith Wikle and Paul Fishback.
Our plan was to meet at 5 p.m. near the channel that connects White Lake to "the big lake" (Lake Michigan). But a conspiracy of weather and traffic kept us about 5 miles north in Frits' house and off the water until about 6:30 p.m. The NOAA weather radar revealed a major storm cell over Green Bay, Wisconsin, which we estimated would allow us time for at least a short paddle. We agreed that we would not paddle all the way down the coast to White Lake, and that it would be easy to pull off if the weather worsened and wait it out.

Setting off from the beach, wondering about that approaching storm system...

So much for plans. As soon as we got on the water, Keith set a brisk pace and before we knew it, we were more than half way to our destination. The storm didn't look too close, and since we were within easy reach of White Lake, we decided to continue. Besides, we were getting hungry.

Frits and Paul paddle into the wind. Our flexible float plan hinged on the speed with which a storm moved in from Green Bay.

Keith tries to hide his carbon fiber snow shovel. Where's your Greenland stick, Keith?

We reached the take-out a little after 8 and finished the car shuttle. By the time we were nearly done loading our boats, it was raining and thundering, with lightning illuminating the sky.
We devoured our dinner and were among the last to leave the inn that night, setting out like so many wanderers to our separate destinations for the night.

Photo op out on the lake. We didn't quite get to the Old Channel Inn by 9 p.m. for dinner, but when we arrived, Clarice was waiting and the storm was only too happy to let loose.

Thanks for paddling with us Frits, Paul and Keith! We look forward to paddling with you and our other wonderful WMCKA friends in the coming months and years.

The other side of the lake

Most of our Lake Michigan paddling takes place on the western shore of this Great Lake. It's lovely to be on the eastern shore, which tends to have steeper beaches and therefore more breaking waves during the summer. (We get our fair share of those in the fall.)

Approaching the lighthouse from the side it was designed to be seen from.

Today we paddled from Stony Creek up to the Little Sable Lighthouse. The shore is lined with summer cottages ranging from the sweet to the ostentatious. We battled a headwind all the way up, so we stopped for lunch on what appeared to be public land. It turned out to be private but not yet built upon, and the Florida resident who owns it motored over in his ATV to make sure we were OK. (It was pretty wavy.)

Yes, we're fine. In fact, we like the waves. Would you please dispose of the garbage we collected from the water?

He kindly took away the garbage we had collected from the water. (We think there's so much of it because of the July 4 weekend. What a way to celebrate your indepenence!)
We returned just in time to catch headwinds all the way back, too. Here's what we collected on the way back.

We went fishing for trash and came back with quite a haul!

Most of it is chip bags and candy wrappers. If fewer foods were sold in single-serving packages and people ate more whole foods and fewer convenience foods, perhaps there would be considerably less garbage in the water.

Local paddler profiles, part one

Sharon, Frits and Alec on the Lake Michigan beach where Frits keeps his boats and paddles almost daily, weather permitting.

We met Frits Kwant almost by accident at the West Michigan Coastal Kayakers Association symposium this year. We were, as usual, among the last to finish packing up and leave, and Frits was in no hurry because he lives only minutes away. When we mentioned that we would be visiting the area in early July, he graciously offered to reserve a campsite for us.
So of course we had to paddle together.
Frits has been paddling for 17 years. During that time, he has built four boats, numerous Greenland-style paddles, and a charming collection of maritime-themed plywood sculptures. Ten years ago, he retired from his job as a special education teacher in the Grand Rapids school system; a couple years ago, he and his wife, Clarice, remodeled their summer place near the lake into a year-round home, sold their house near the city, and became some of the few full-time residents of this glorious area.
Frits does not suffer from nature-deficit disorder. If he isn't on the lake, he's running along the country roads or watching the humming birds that frequent the many feeders that line his porch. A spry 67-year-old with a twinkle in his eye, he's open to adventure and has paddled some pretty challenging waters. He isn't interested in certifications and other external validations of his commitment to kayaking. He's simply a man who loves to paddle and has acquired the skills he needs to enjoy the sport safely.
We set off from the beach near Frits and Clarice's home and paddled north through choppy wind waves to Flower Creek, an almost hidden waterway that snakes past a few summer homes and then through marshland inhabited by muskrats, deer, turtles and innumerable birds.

A few of the residents of Flower Creek. Moments later, they slipped into the water.

The unusually high water levels allowed us to paddle for what seemed like miles, though it was difficult to say how far we actually went through the twist and turns. It was peaceful and quiet, in contrast to the crashing waves on Lake Michigan. Frits appreciates both equally: the gentle creek and the challenging waves, the intimate view of one little area and the expansiveness of the big lake. And all the while, he shared with us stories of this place and the people who live here.
Kayakers always rely on local knowledge. It's how we learn when and where to paddle. It's how we avoid hazards and find out about the best a place has to offer, from surf waves to pie. Frits was our premier source of local knowledge this week. He shared his knowledge (and his time) freely, and we feel grateful.

Frits in the third boat he built. (He made the paddle, too.)

Too many things left unwritten

This is a bittersweet morning. We're packing the car and trailer and waiting for Robert to see us off before we head up to Ontario. It's been a great week; it's hard to say goodbye.
There are so many thing we haven't written about: the rescue class, the rolling class, casual paddles in the Chester River, the presentation we gave about Great Lakes paddling opportunities, Jeremy and Noah flying kites, a day trip to Cape Henlopen State Park, and more.
But we can't leave before writing a little bit about Hannah's role during our time in Queenstown. She co-taught the "women on the water" class, bringing to it her playful spirit and her remarkable ability to work with all kinds of people. Her paddling skills are good enough that she can provide clean demonstrations, clear explanations and helpful critiques (essentials of kayak instruction), but that's just the beginning. She can also inspire and motivate students with her enthusiasm and knack for saying just the right thing at just the right time. And she's fun.

Hannah demonstrating the solid support provided by rafting up.

Lest things get too serious, Hannah gets students to practice their strokes while sitting on their back decks.

When she wasn't teaching, Hannah was either paddling around with Noah sitting on her back hatch, chatting with Kerrie, or practicing guitar. But when the opportunity arose to teach more, she took it. Robert was providing a kayak program at a local camp four mornings this week. Hannah went along to help, bringing to the campers her same set of paddling and people skills.
It's delightful watching her evolve as both a paddler and an instructor. She'll no doubt be both proud and a little embarrassed about this post, but we had to write it.

No iPod Left Behind: Hannah shares her playlist with Kerrie.

taking risks, earning rewards

Robert, Kerrie and Noah Schrack.

We've been meaning to write a little bit about our hosts, Robert and Kerrie Schrack. It's a daunting task because they've been so generous and impressive on so many fronts. So this post will attempt to address what's been missing from previous posts: some sense of who brought us here.
Robert and Kerrie are the owners of Adventure Crafters in Queenstown, MD. They have a small but impressively stocked pro shop and offer classes and trips. Check out their website at www.adventurecrafters.com.
Robert and Alec met during their Instructor Certification Exam at Sea Kayak Georgia, one of the premiere places for sea kayak training. They're both natural athletes and generous spirits, so they hit it off immediately.
Adventure Crafters is in its second year here in Queenstown, after a year and a half or so in Westchester, PA. Robert traded in his landscaping business to invest full-time in kayaking, with Kerrie assisting him in everything from running the shop to leading the evening paddles.
It's an impressive balancing act: work and family, time on water and time running the business, making a living and being true to their values. They're walking all those tightropes admirably.
We've been staying with them for almost a week now, sharing meals, teaching classes, messing around on the water, hanging out and sharing stories. We've met an assortment of the students they attract, who seem to share the down-to-earth, honest spirit that Robert and Kerrie bring to their business. It's been a great pleasure to see this small, family business in its early stages and help for one short week.

One of the hazards of teaching and guiding full-time is that you rarely get to go out and paddle for fun, and when you do, you usually do so alone. This evening, we paddled out with Robert into a pretty stiff head wind until the darkening clouds grew a little too ominous. We surfed back home to the sounds of thunder, looking over our shoulders at some very dramatic skies.

As we approached Eastern Neck Island, we saw sheets of raining pouring down from the clouds ahead of us.

Almost back in safe harbor, the waves subsided and we knew we had outpaddled the storm.

It seemed an apt metaphor for what makes anything in life meaningful. Often you have to take a risk to gain a reward. Whether it's a stunning sky, an exciting ride or a meaningful life, you have to take some chances.
We're awfully glad that Robert and Kerrie took a chance on Adventure Crafters and included us in their adventure.

Why a women's class?

Most classes begin with individual boat fit so that students feel comfortable in their kayaks and can control them well.

Saturday's “women on the water” class was, in many ways, typical of other all-female classes I've taken and taught. The participants ranged from timid to almost fearless, from novice to intermediate, from goal-oriented to open-to-anything. But what they all had in common was this: They wanted to learn in a supportive environment where nobody would judge them, and that's what an all-women's class meant to them.
It's funny, when you think about. Are women any less judgmental than men? Not necessarily. But they often are more supportive of one another, particularly when they are overcoming their fears and gaining new skills. In a mixed gender class, you're less likely to see a spontaneous round of applause after someone screws up her confidence and finally attempts a scoop rescue on a fellow paddler. You're more likely to see a someone hanging back and watching instead of trying new skills. But in a women-only class, there's a lot of encouragement and positive reinforcement. Students root for each other and celebrate each other's accomplishments. It's a case of gender camaraderie at its best.
Our Saturday class began with two students refusing to do a “wet exit.” One saw no need; the other was afraid. Sizing up the conditions (warm water and air, calm seas, no spray skirts), I hastily devised the “modified wet exit,” in which I would hold the student's hands while she flipped her boat and came out. Both students agreed to do this and executed it easily, proving to themselves and to me that they would come out of their boats if they accidentally capsized.
By contrast, one student came to class with the wet exit high on her list of desired skills. She had never done one and was a little afraid she wouldn't be able to. After she pulled one off, she was ecstatic, and kept doing it over and over just to reinforce the skill. Her pride was infectious; the excitement of the whole class ratcheted up several notches.
The rest of the class entailed a mix of teaching and playing, with the games reinforcing the skills. For example, after teaching turning strokes and draw strokes, we played kayak basketball, in which students attempted to toss tennis balls into each other's cockpits. When they missed their targets, they had to retrieve the balls from the water by using the strokes they had learned. The beauty of doing this through games is that the stroke practice happens naturally. The students laugh and focus on what they're trying to accomplish. The paddle skills are no longer an end, but a means to an end, which means they're actually useful.

There was a time when I would have been skeptical about the need for all-women's classes. I grew up with only brothers and always had male friends. My husband is my favorite paddling partner. And yet, when I was first learning to kayak, I took a few women's classes and appreciated how comfortable I felt making mistakes and learning in an all-female environment. Now I watch my students gravitating toward that same kind of supportive, encouraging community and benefiting from the camaraderie it creates, and I'm sold on providing this option for women.One of the best ways to get comfortable with a kayak is to play in it.