Selected articles from the Spring 2006 issue
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BEING ON THE WATER
Wendy Killoran
A quiet lapping of water brushes the sandy shore. I look westward to the horizon, and a clear blue sky contrasts with a pencil-thin navy blue lake edge. A refreshingly soft warmth envelops me and a joyful, light feeling as I prepare to launch my kayak early in the morning on this placid day in June.
A few cormorants fly low over the water, single file. The lake is where I often come. I come here to renew my spirit. I come here to absorb the natural beauty. I come here again and again to gain wisdom, to notice the subtle changes in texture, light and sound. I come here to be me, to be immersed in Nature.
Slipping my kayak into the water, I feel free. I instantly clear my cluttered mind. The breeze brushes my face. Wisps of hair blow. Gentle wavelets flow beneath my hull. I feel relaxed. I feel I belong here. It feels natural to be surrounded by the sights and sounds of Nature. I could be anywhere; floating amongst icebergs in Greenland, passing a tropical sandy cay with the perfect tourist image of swaying palm trees. But I’m on Lake Huron. Regardless of where I paddle, I feel alive, connected in some small way to all that exists. Being on the water is where I feel spiritual.
Here on the lake, I heighten my senses. I feel so alive. When I decide to kayak, I am also choosing to nourish my soul, to reach a greater inner awareness. I feel spiritual and the sounds and smells and varied sights renew my spirit, refresh me, and bring greater clarity.
I feel it becomes easier to connect with my spiritual essence when immersed in Nature. I have felt the exhilaration of an accidental pitch poling in frigid, icy water, rocketing out of the cockpit, gasping from the stinging ice water one December day. I have also reveled in the hot, calm languorous summer days, relaxedly rolling my kayak with refreshed, coolness, like the tingling sensation one gets from a cold shower. I have felt my muscles ache from working hard, paddling for hours non-stop in preparation for a marathon.
Out on the lake, I am where I am. The demands, pressures and stress from work dissipate. Being on the water becomes therapeutic, helps release stress through either a calm or invigorating paddle. Stress simply washes away, replaced by the natural beauty.
Nature demands very little. It demands my respect and it demands my humility. In return, it gives me so much. I feel free. I am surrounded by large, expansive space. I note the various nuances in the quality of light as the sun travels through the sky. I see the changes in the seasons, the verdant soft hues of spring foliage and the blazing hot colors of autumn’s last hurrah. I notice distant seagulls’ cries and the sound of my paddle grabbing the water as I breathe deeply.
I notice these moments because I am in the present. My mind is in the present, not making judgmental thoughts, but just absorbing what is. Each moment simply flows through me like the water flows beneath my hull. My life always unfolds in the present moment. Life is always happening now. And when I’m paddling, I’m appreciating and accepting each moment as it occurs. It would be impossible not to be in the present as I’m surfing to shore or suspended upside down preparing to roll.
Time spent in my kayak in Nature helps me develop better self-awareness. I feel the sting of snowflakes on my cheeks on an early December paddle. I feel the discomfort of perspiration trickling down my temples, clinging stickily to my skin on a windless, stifling, humid August day. I feel the deserved tiredness from a grueling paddle against headwinds. And I feel the tranquility of a placid autumn sunset paddle on a mirror smooth lake with psychedelic blobs of infused color flowing like a child’s kaleidoscope of ever changing patterns. I feel my senses thriving on the natural messages, absorbing the smells, sights, sounds and feelings with heightened clarity. Spirituality flourishes within me when I’m on the water. I’m filled with wonder, like a young child experiencing these moments for the very first time.
I notice not only my environment, but also the space that allows it to exist. It is a profound self-realization to become completely in tune with not only my surroundings, but also myself – my inner self and my physical entity. For me, to feel a totality of simply being and to experience serenity and also joy in the moment is enlightening.
Sometimes I feel as though my kayak is flying over the water. It feels effortless. At that moment, I feel empowered, simply by the knowledge of Being. I feel connected in some small way to the universal picture surrounding me. I feel insignificant in comparison to the omnipotent power of Nature yet humbly feel that I am connected in this world as I too am part of the natural cycles. I am but a mere speck on this vast lake affected by the wind, sun, water, air, shoreline and the creatures and plants who share this place. But I maintain my cadence instinctively. I am in tune with the lake and myself. Distractions don’t exist when I’m absorbed in the inherent moment. Everything simply is as it is, and I am here, part of this world, in my own space as myself, my true self.
I smell the smoke from a distant campfire invisibly waft to my nostrils. Instantly I recognize the smell. Sometimes I smell the rotten stench of a fish or a gull decomposing on the beach. Slight changes in the breeze alert me to new scents. My senses are keenly aware that no two moments are ever the same. I pause to photograph the shoreline, a place I’ve paddled hundreds of times. Each image is unique. Each image reflects that unique moment in time.
When I’m on the water I feel complete. The fact that I have so many materialistic possessions to improve the quality of my life is simply irrelevant. I am on the water because that is where I need to be to feel complete. That is where I choose to be – to feel the cold driving rain pinch my skin, to feel the luscious warmth of sun-baked kisses, to feel the power of the waves and wind, or the mysterious cloak of fog encapsulating me in a world where smell and hearing must be attuned over sight.
Being on the water, I continuously learn about who I am and what really matters in life. My life is enriched rather than my life being a series of experiences. These experiences take on a greater depth, become more meaningful and richer when I use my senses, and I experience life from deep within.
I can still clearly recall my first full moon paddle one October night several years ago. A hushed quiet filled the night air, which cooled rather quickly with the disappearance of the sun. The moon’s white light shimmered and danced in silver sparkles and millions of drops of liquid diamonds gleamed on my deck under a star splattered black sky. The magic of the moment lives within me, forever, part of who I am.
Paddling in silence, usually alone, lends itself to being in sync with what is. I hear the "cria cria" of the sleek terns. I see and marvel at the monarch butterflies, who, with resolute determination, flutter southwards against a headwind, paralleling the shore. I taste the pure, cold dampness of raindrops on my lips. I become aware of my own true nature and the Nature surrounding me.
For me, paddling is so much more than a simple experience on the water. It is being on the water. I feel a deep gratitude for the fullness of life I experience when I’m in my kayak on the water.
TO FEATHER OR NOT TO FEATHER,
THAT IS THE QUESTION
Bert Millar
If you were to look around when paddling with groups you would notice that most people use feathered paddles. A feathered paddle is one where each blade is oriented at a different angle than the opposite blade usually between 60 and 90 degrees so that when the power side is in the water and moving toward the rear of the boat the non-power side, which is moving forward, is at right angles to the air and slicing through the headwind instead of pushing air. Sounds like a definite advantage, but is it? It would be if all we did was paddle into headwinds but fortunately wind and waves come from all different directions and rise and fall at the whim of Mother Nature. If you were to ask most novice kayakers why they feather their paddle they would answer that it’s because everyone else does so it must be the right thing to do … mmm. Let’s look into this further.
I will list below some pros and cons regarding feathering in order to encourage people to give it some thought before they decide which way to go.
ADVANTAGES OF A FEATHERED PADDLE
Blade angle in the air provides less wind resistance in strong headwinds but only if the feather angle is between 60 and 90 degrees. It is only an advantage when you are actively paddling and the paddle is in motion.
Some Olympic racing kayakers like feathered paddles, not because of the wind advantage but because it reinforces torso rotation.
ADVANTAGES OF AN UNFEATHERED PADDLE
Biomechanically it is less likely to cause wrist stress injury or repetitive motion injury because you are not twisting the power blade into position for every stroke. (However some kayakers suffering from wrist pain report that the twisting motion necessary for feathered paddling actually gives some relief so that means that everyone’s body and injury is unique and may respond to different cures.)
Lets you have a stronger stroke with wrist inline for pushing the non-power blade forward.
Consistent blade position for bracing on the water on either side.
Blade angle in the air has much less tendency to try to rip itself out of your hands or capsize you in a strong beam wind.
Blade angle in the air is an advantage in tailwinds.
Easier to brace across another kayak for multiple kayak rafting or rescues.
Easier for most beginners to learn paddle stroke techniques
Fits kayak deck contour better for standard kayak entry or exit braces from shore or dock.
Fits kayak deck contour better for paddle float rescues.
Inboard blade clears kayak bottom more easily during eskimo roll set-up and paddle sweep.
Parallel blades slice through very large waves or surf with less paddle twist.
Parallel blades make it simpler to set up for a roll on either side of the kayak. (One less thing to think about when upside down and gasping for air, and one key to successful eskimo rolling is simplicity.)
Some people may suggest that they could paddle feathered into a headwind and unfeathered for beam or tailwinds. Sounds good on paper but bracing, sculling and rolling have to be instinctive, split-second reactions so it’s much better to burn one blade angle into your muscle memory and stick with it.
I hope these suggestions will give paddlers something to ponder and then make an educated decision regarding which way they would like to snap their paddle together. But the most important thing is to get out there and paddle with your friends, develop your skills, enjoy the wind, waves and scenery; but do it now because the meter of life is ticking. Paddle on.
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