Kayak Blogs

Hi new friends!  I am brand new to kayaking, but am quickly becoming obsessed!    I am a 5'7" female, about 140lbs.  Im learning to roll in a Dagger Crazy 88 6.2, which Im really loving.  Im interested in buying my own boat, so I need some advice!!  I want to be able to roll and play in whitewater, but I also want to be comfortable enough to spend the day with my "non-kayaking" friends (gasp!) that rent canoes or sit-on-tops for the occasional float trip on calmer class 2ish rivers.  I'm looking for as much advice as possible!

I'm very excited about my upcoming adventures, and can't wait to hear lots of opinions!

Thanx,

Marianne :)

It was a pretty spontaneous decision on my part. After all, I thought to myself, what harm could there be going on a canoe trip amongst a group of men with whom six I worked with for a number of years? So naturally I jumped at the opportunity to go on an extended 76 mile trip down the Colorado River from Blythe to Yuma, when I was asked if I wanted to go, the day before the trip. Little did I know what adventures lay ahead.

There was one small glitch in the plan. They were taking four canoes, and didn’t want me to take my kayak for some reason. I found out a short while later, the reason why. Those little devils, paired me up with someone who had never paddled a canoe before, and swore to me afterwards they didn’t know…

They call tandem boats, “divorce boats”, for a darn good reason. The same applies to paddling a canoe. After the first two miles of zig-zagging down the river trying to keep the canoe going in a straight path, (due to my over zealous companion over paddling in the bow of the canoe,) while everyone else glided along down river barely paddling, due to the 5 m.p.h. river flow, I was ready to knock that little bugger right out of the canoe with my paddle. I finally suggested that he try his hand at fishing, which he apparently wasn’t any better at either. He nearly hooked me, and instead hooked my hat, on his first attempt at casting.

Blythe is located on the California- Arizona border where the Interstate 10 crosses the Colorado River. We finally put in our canoes at the Riviera Blythe Marina located off of Riviera Drive, after we waited close to four hours for two of the guys to car shuttle down to the take-out point, and then drive back up, to the put-in spot where we were located.

The first thing that struck me as rather humorous was how much junk the guys packed into their canoes – I swear they threw in the kitchen sink too. This was the first trip I ever went on that I didn’t know where I was going – nor did I have a map, so basically was flying blind by the seat of my pants, which is something I recommend never doing, because if something happens to the only one who knows where you are going, it places you in a pretty vulnerable predicament,….but more about that a little later.

The weather was roasting and in the low 100’s every day, but at night the temperature dropped into the 30’s and 40’s. Peter McIntyre County Park has restrooms and portable water which is about 8 miles down river from the put-in. Up until this point everyone was cruising along, pretty much gliding down with the river current, tossing out their lines, while chugging down what seemed like an endless supply of beer, doing very little paddling, while getting some pretty good fishing action.

There are plenty of places to get out and fish from a sand bank or in shallower parts of the river, which we did. The river has three varieties of trout: browns, rainbows, and cutthroats which range in size from eight inches on up. After just a few casts, Mark hooked up with a feisty 14-inch brown. The other guys all soon followed suit, except of course, for my paddling companion, who apparently has never done much fishing or camping for that matter.

About 5 hours into the trip, up ahead I saw one of the most hysterical things I have ever seen in my entire life. Apparently there was a muddy sand bar in which several of the guys were running and doing belly flops, sliding 20 or so feet, kind-of like those water slides, kids slide on your lawn. They were covered with gooey, black, smelly mud from head to toe. I broke out in hysterics, when they all started making mud angels. I was kicking myself in the butt for not having a video camera, which I would have won hands down, the America Most Funny Video award. I had to keep reminding myself these are the same men who I work with – I never had a clue to this side of their personality before.

The first night the plan was to camp along the shoreline. I was about 100 yards from the other three canoes, two of which were pulling up their canoes onto the shoreline, which is when I heard loud horrific screams. I looked up to see the guys on shore flaying their arms like they were doing some kind of war dance. That’s when I saw a dark swarm, what I thought was mosquitoes, but then one of the guys was screaming wasps. I yelled back to dive under the water, which they did.

At this time, I had flash backs to when I was 5 years old, when I stepped on a hornets nest, and had over 100 stings. My mom had to use the fly swatter to get them off of me. So I started back paddling like I was in the Olympics trying to win a freaking Gold Medal. Thank God, I had just put on a long sleeve shirt with a hood, and pants, because I had too much sun.

I was the only one who didn’t get stung. The other guys were so badly stung on their faces they were unrecognizable. After we found another spot to camp a short distance down river, I asked the guys if they wanted me to paddle down river another 20 miles to get help. Mark said, I’d get lost due to all of the side channels and they’d be alright.

Here’s where a map of the river would have come into good use, had the situation been critical. And you could forget about the cell phone reception in the remote area where we were located. So they covered themselves with mud, and polished off all of the beers to try to numb the pain. All night long, I heard them partying up a storm splashing around in the water. I wondered if I should keep an eye on them to make sure they didn’t drown because they sounded so drunk, which I imagine they probably felt like doing, to put themselves out of their misery.

I must admit, in the morning the swelling was so bad on their faces, they looked pretty scary because their faces were so deformed. They could barely see out of their eyes either. The few people who passed us on the river, took one looked at the guys, and I could see the sudden fear in their expression, as they tried to figure out what in the world was going on. The guys sure were pretty good sports about it, and decided to continue on past Harvey’s Fishing Hole boat launch, which happened to be only a mile further down river.

At roughly the 22 mile point, we portaged over a levee at Oxbow Bridge to reach Palo Verde Oxbow Lake where the fishing was outstanding. After catching a sizable amount of fish, we went on our merry way. The group was much more somber. We made it to just before Walter’s Camp, which was about the 35 mile mark on the second day without any further incident. Walter’s Camp is a take-out point which has restroom facilities, water and a few supplies, (including beer), which if I recall correctly, is on the right fork when the river splits for a short ways. We all enjoyed a pleasant evening meal of fresh cooked trout, which I whipped up for the guys, who still appeared to be suffering. Then we all caught up on some much needed sleep.

The morning on the third day was glorious. The reflections off the water, made me feel like I died during the night, and woke up in heaven. Even though the air temperature was really brisk, I decided to take a swim before the guys woke up. Little did I know I had seven sets of peering eyes, all watching me like naughty little boys who got caught with their hand in a cookie jar, so naturally I made them pay for their crime, the best way I knew how.

We packed up our canoes and headed into the Imperial National Wildlife Refuge, where speedboats and jet skis were not allowed. It was really peaceful, but a little eerie. For as far as you could see there was nothing but rolling sage brush on both sides of the river. Fishing was excellent on the river and in some of the back channels we explored. The land along the shore is owned and managed by various entities, both public and private. The U.S. Fish and Wildlife services manages the Imperial National Wildlife refuge where there is an abundance of submerged water hazards, rocks, and sand bars, which we had to portage over a few, because the river was so low in some sections.

When were about half-way through the refuge, out of no where an old geezer, sitting in some kind-of home made wooden kayak, with gear strapped so high to it, it made our canoes look like they were packed like, came cruising up river towards us. He took one look at the guys and asked them what happened. There was something about the man that struck me as really creepy and odd, especially when he was so insistent about how the guys should hike to 95 Hwy. and catch a ride down to Yuma for help. The second thing that was odd, was he said we were the first people he’d come across in several weeks, which made me wonder what he was doing all out here by himself. Plus his gear certainly didn’t look like the typical kayak expedition equipment. Later that night, I kept one eye open, half expecting him to show up in the middle of the night and steal some of our gear, but he never did.

It was hotter than heck on last day of our journey, and for the first time we encountered some pretty good head winds as we made our way to the take-out point about 25 miles further down river. It was the first time I had to put any effort into paddling except for those first two miles when I wanted to clobber my paddling companion.

When we finally pulled into the take-out site at Squaw Lake Recreation Area at the 76 mile mark, the guys caused a lot of stares and whispers. All I could think about was hitting the head, and jumping into the shower, and getting squeaky clean again. I insisted the guys all take showers too, since they were pretty ripe from smearing themselves with the stinky mud, and considering during the ride back, we would be in pretty tight quarters.

We all piled into the truck, after packing up our gear and made our way back to our cars. On the long two-hour drive back, I reminisced about all of the adventures we had during the 4 day outing with the boys. I imagined I’d never look at them the same when I went back to work the following day – I think a little of it had to do with mental pictures of mud angels, and grapefruit size welts on their faces.

www.kayakandcanoeguidebooks.com

"Dang woman, slow it down in you want to catch a big one! A big-ole bass won't chase after your fast-moving bait" he said, “A big fish feels different when they hit, than a little one. It's the little ones that thrash around like a wild mustang, trying to rid itself of its rider."

Having said that, as I moseyed on my way to my secret “honey hole”, while trailing a lure out behind me, I thought to myself, "But I like those little ones that put up a good fight!" What I like even more, is tossing out a line, and reeling it in, instead of just sitting there like a bump on a log, watching the grass grow.

That’s when the thought crossed my mind, “How in the heck am I going to snap a photo, if I catch a whopper anyway? Shoot, even McDonald's knows it takes two hands to handle a whopper! Or am I thinking of Burger King?”

Considering the winds are extremely unpredictable at Lake Piru, I didn't want to fish for too long, especially since I wasn't feeling too particularly energetic. Getting caught half-way out on the lake, if the wind began to howl, would be challenging.

Kayak fishing at Lake Piru is only permitted in the "Narrows", the northern most section of the lake. This also happens to be a prime spot for catching one of those elusive, monster-size bass, I’ve heard so much about. But then, you know what they say about fishermen – they sure know how to tell a tall tale!

Another great spot to land a bass is in the first cove, just north of the main launch ramp, along the western side of the lake, in the grassy areas. Unfortunately, it is frequently taken over by other fishermen, fishing from along the shore.

In the “Narrows”, there are also a few “hot” spots with plenty of weeds, and deep water in the early spring. This area has the best potential for hooking a monster-size bass. During the fall though, the lake’s water level is drawn down so low, it reduces the seven mile area on the lake, allowed for paddling, to almost nothing.

Although fishing at Lake Piru is pretty consistent all year long, in the springtime it is not uncommon to catch five or more bass in an hour, in the 11 to 13 inch range, but the only thing I appeared to be catching, was a cold.

Fishermen typically enjoy catching an abundance of largemouth bass at Lake Piru. The lake also has a healthy population of catfish, bluegill, crappie, and sunfish. 40,000 pounds of rainbow trout are also planted by the Department of Fish and Game seasonally. Kayak anglers have pretty good success snaring a trout while trolling, but all I managed to snare was a few water reeds.

Lake Piru is located in Ventura County, California, in the Los Padres National Forest. The lake is encircled by brush-covered rugged foothills, and low mountains spotted with oak and chaparral trees. Depending on what time of year you paddle, the area can be covered with lush green, or dry brown brush. The view from the dam gives you a good perspective of almost the entire lake, most of which you are prohibited to paddle, which sure is a shame.

With all that said, once I finally arrived at my “honey hole”, I tossed out a line, and then I sat and thought about how I planned to photograph my gigantic size bass after I hooked one. Is it my imagination or does that big ole bass keep on getting bigger every time I mention it? Imagine that!

I worked a crawdad, inch by inch; just like that hairy old feller told me to, along the bottom of the lake. This is where he reckoned those honking size bass were liable to be hiding. They must have been taking a snooze, because I didn’t get a single nibble. With as little of action I was getting, I figured I might as well be putting nail polish on my toes.

It can get mighty dull if you’re not getting any action, so I decided to change my strategy and hook a small rambunctious trout instead, to try to liven things up a bit. In the process of changing lures, a large set of waves rocked my kayak, which caused the lure to slip out of between, two of my freshly manicured nails, and then plop into the water, or so I thought it did.

Having lost my lure, I reached behind into my tackle box to retrieve another one. At first I thought I got stung by a bee, when I felt a sharp prick in my behind. To my dismay, when I looked down, low and behold, there was my missing lure impaled into my derriere.

Two thoughts crossed through my mind at that particular moment: I could plant a big juicy kiss on Mike, for telling me to change the triple trebles, to a single treble, and for pinching down the barbs, to make it easier to catch and release. The second thought was, “How in the heck was I going to remove the fish hook out of my rear-end?”

I paused for a moment to contemplate my precarious predicament. After weighing out different possibilities, (during which time I tried to block out of my mind, how excruciatingly painful it was, when my mother removed a hook-shaped piece of glass, from the bottom of my foot)….I decided to paddle to the shore, to see if I could tell how deeply lodged that sucker was, which brought up another interesting dilemma.

Back in my mind I heard my mother’s voice saying, “always wear nice underwear in case of an emergency”, but she never said anything about what kind, which left me in an awkward position at the moment. I used a pair of nail scissors in my first-aid kit to cut a little hole out of the seat of my pants, to try to see if I could remove the hook by myself.

I read an article a while back about how to remove a fishing hook. It said, “The only way to remove a fishing hook is to push the hook all the way through and cut off the end of the barb with a wire cutter, then back the remainder of the hook out through the entry site.”

Much to my relief the hook didn’t look too deeply embedded, so I used a pair of tweezers to pull it out, which turned out not to be a very swift idea. I couldn’t see which way the bend in the hook was curved, in order to know which way to pull.

After several attempts, I began to feel a little light headed and dizzy. As a couple of droplets of blood dribbled down my leg, I gritted my teeth and gave it one good yank. It came out along with a few choice words. None of which I care to repeat. I patched myself up, and sat there for a while, until my head stopped spinning.

I laughed at the thought of what just happened, and tossed out my line a few more times. I swore to myself I wouldn’t tell anyone, the only thing I managed to hook that day was me, but it was so comical, that I had to come clean. When the tops of the trees began to twitch in the wind, it was time for me to call it a day and to paddle back in. I suppose it’s a good thing I don't have to catch a fish in order to be content. I also suppose you could say it was rightly named an elusive monster-size bass for a darn good reason, and how it managed to grow to be so big.

Janice L. Green has been kayaking and canoeing for over 25 years, and is the author of two guidebooks on locations where to kayak and canoe in California. www.kayakandcanoeguidebooks.com

When the first ray of light rose up from the dark night sky, I made a snap decision to try out some of my new fishing lures, so I put together my gear and headed out the door down to Alamitos Bay, located in Belmont Shores. On the way down, I couldn’t tell whether the sun would come out, or whether it would remain cloudy and overcastted all morning.

Even with a dry suit and a nylon wind suit on, the air temperature was pretty nippy, and the water was so cold, my feet turned a bright shade of pink, within a matter of a few seconds, it took for me to shove off from Mother’s Beach, located off of Ocean Blvd. and Bay Shore, near the gondola rentals.

I decided to paddle hard until my body temperature warmed up a few degrees. After paddling a short distance, I stopped to put on gloves and booties, to try to get the feeling back in my hands and feet. While stopped, I heard a noise which I couldn’t recall ever hearing before. The closest thing to describing it would be a release of steam.

As I neared my “fishing spot”, I stopped to take a couple of “Kodak Moments” of a life size pirate statue standing at the edge of the water. When I went to resume paddling, as I swept my paddle blade into the water, it hit something, which struck me as rather odd. “Why in the heck wouldn’t my blade sink into the water more than a couple of inches?” I asked myself. I noticed I was near by where a large sailboat had sunk a while back. My first thought was perhaps I hit the sail mast, but I figured I was too far away. Plus, they probably already removed it by now. My next reaction was fear; when I felt the backend of my kayak rise and I saw this huge mass, twice the width of my kayak, swim underneath me which I must have hit with my blade.

I immediately became alert in a split second. As my heart started pounding a mile a minute, back in the cobwebs of my mind, I swear the music of the opening scene of JAWS began to play. There are some things that just stick with you like glue, (like the scene of the girl in the movie JAWS being eradicated by a shark), which was one of those things that had a lasting impact on me.

It didn’t help matters when a woman fishing off of her kayak for the first time, landed a 5’ shark in the Alamitos Bay recently and when a life guard who told me a couple of weeks prior, “What makes you think sharks don’t swim in the harbor?” Or when I told my friend about the shark they just caught in the bay, he replied, “Oh, I saw two fins cutting through the water, when I was paddling outside the bay last month”… Two fins—one behind the other—is usually a shark, with its back and tail fins rising above the water surface. What’s the matter are you a chicken you must be thinking? No, I am not a chicken of the sea, but I must admit I got a quick reality check, that there are creatures lurking beneath the water in the bays and harbors, that could make mince meat of me.

I picked up my pace a tad and decided to move to another location. Ok I lied. At that moment I was Chicken of the Sea and I paddled like I had a fire lit under my a_s. A hundred yards further it happened once again, but this time it felt as though the whole back end half of my kayak was lifted out of the water. Talk about feeling like a sitting duck! It didn’t help matters much when I saw a large wave pattern on the water surface just a few yards ahead of me.

Having paddled in Virginia for a year, I got accustom to watching the water surface for movement. The water moccasins are abundant, and very AGGRESSIVE in Virginia. If you see an ”S” pattern on the water surface, that looks like a short stick moving in the water at the point, you can bet your bottom dollar, it is a head of a snake. Unfortunately, the size of the pattern on the water would be comparable to the size a small boat would make, and not some dinky snake. Gulp….

The good thing about paddling when not a ripple mars the water surface is sometimes you get a forewarning some thing’s coming. What exactly is coming may not be known, as it was in this instance. With that thought fresh in my mind, I didn’t know whether I should be grateful (or concerned), about gliding through the murky water in the bay. Grateful because ignorance is blitz if you don’t have a clue what’s swimming a few feet beneath you – concerned because I can’t see it coming.

I didn’t see any dorsal fin breaking the water surface thank God, but my experience about being attacked by a shark was close to nil. Do sharks swim around you in a circle, and give you a heads up they are going to attack, or do they sneak up from behind out-of-sight underwater and bite you in the behind without any fore warning? Beats me baby. All I knew is, I wanted to get the heck out of there and not wait around to find out, so I made my way to the nearest shore like I was Speedy Gonzales, (a cartoon character who was the fastest mouse in all of Mexico), which was exactly what I felt like at that moment: A scared mouse running for cover …except of course I was paddling instead of running….

While paddling, I flashed back to this past June when I teasingly asked a man fishing in a floating inner tube if he was concerned about losing a leg or two to a shark. The visual image made me chuckle, when he didn’t appear to have a worry in the world. Then I had another flashback to all those photos in the kayak fishing trip reports of men dangling their legs over the sides of their kayaks….which might look enticing, like a giant size worm to a shark, saying, “Come eat me!”

Being attacked by a shark is a common fear, despite the fact that you’re more likely to get harpooned by a swordfish hurling through the air, or getting struck by lightning, then you are getting attacked by a shark. In an average year, fewer than 100 people worldwide are attacked by sharks. But is this suppose to be comforting, especially to kayak anglers who break rule number one about how not to attract a shark?: “Don’t carry dead fish on your kayak.”

I heard that release of steam noise I heard earlier, and then I spied what looked like a massive sea lion poking its head out of the water with two huge teeth like a walrus has about 30 feet in front of from me. Well, not quite that big, but they had to be several inches long on order for me to see them from so far away. It had a really odd shaped head too, not round like a cute little sea lion, rather it had a hump shaped head. I swore it smiled at me with its big toothy grin, and then dove beneath the water.

I didn’t know whether to be relieved quite yet or not. I did a quick search through my brain, for data on how to handle the situation if the sea lion had an inkling to climb on board my kayak. I figured hitting it with my paddle might piss it off and make it want to sink those monstrous pearly whites into me so I nixed that idea. Besides if a big old sea lion climbed on board my kayak I’d sink in a heart beat, considering my kayak only has a maximum weight capacity of 500 pounds.

While paddling in Newport Beach Harbor, I came across at least seven rather large sea lions that had to weigh close to 500 pounds at least, of which two trailed behind me for about one half-of-a-mile, most likely waiting for me to throw out a fishing line. Sea lions in the harbors have learned to trail behind kayaks and pluck off the bait when the fisherman casts out his line, or they’ll steal the fish right off the hook when you’re reeling a fish in. I also read a news article about a lone sea lion that charged and tipped over a mother and her child in their kayak in the Newport Beach Harbor and pulled the mother under water and took a chunk out of her leg.

All I know is a long time ago I learned to respect the laws of nature: wind, water, fire and critters that can eat you for breakfast. Hummmmm, speaking of breakfast, that sounded like a lot better plan than fishing at the moment…..I decided to call it a day and go have some breakfast…instead of being breakfast for some hungry critter looking for something to eat.

Janice L. Green has been kayaking and canoeing for over 25 years, and is the author of two guidebooks on locations where to kayak and canoe in California. www.kayakandcanoeguidebooks.com

My name is Sean West, and my company imports necklaces with Maori symbols for safe passage over water for kayakers.  I’m originally from Asheville, NC and I’ve been a whitewater kayaker since I was 15.   I've built this company while in college, and based the whole thing on giving an awesome product to customers who really appreciate them.

 

At the beginning of summer in 2005, I met someone selling Maori symbols for safe passage over water (the Hei- Matau fish hook) at a rock festival in North Carolina.  Earlier in the year, I’d knocked out several teeth on a rapid called Oceana, and figured I needed all the luck I could get.  I bought three, gave one each my two best friends and kept one for myself.  We’ve all been wearing them since that day, and these represent friendship, kayaking and symbolic protection on the river to us. 

 

Wanderer Imports was founded last year, in an attempt to stay free to boat and spread the positive meaning of these symbols to others.  I found a group of independent Balinese artisans willing to carve the Hei-Matau pendants and other Maori symbols, and worked my way up from selling them out of my trunk to random passerby and friends up to selling to large outfitters and through an online store.

 

Thanks to Playak.com for the web space, and check out the symbols and their meanings at www.wandererimports.com.

 

Keep on paddling,

Sean

G´wave, the video; a short film shot at the main playwave in the Gallego river, Spain, this spring.

Differenet surf kayak sessions in San sebastian beaches and the surroinding areas. Video edited on 2002 on epic surfing conditions, including a couple of kayak events.

This time we visited the holes at La Peña dam, in Huesca. This site is a great "hole" paradise with between 8 to 10 playholes, depending on water levels. At the time of recording with a helmetcam, a 100m3 were flushing, a bit low.

Commando Bay:
During World War II a special operations training camp was established briefly at a bay on Okanagan Lake south of Kelowna. That bay is now known as Commando Bay in recognition of the wartime activities that took place there. (http://www.okmilmuseum.ca/okmilmuseumcommando.htm)

 

 

My Log:
IndianRock-CommandoBay Left Indian Rock on Wednesday, August 29, 2007, 6:54AM.
It was a hot day in August and a bit shaded in the morning as I kayaked from Indian Rock (just North of Naramata B.C.) along the East side edge of the Okanagan Lake. Thought I would record my trip with photo so I took out my cellphone and started snapping photos along the trip some of of those shots are posted in here. I arrived at Commando Bay at 08:43AM just short of 2hrs. The water was mainly calm both ways and the temp was quite warm, around 30c. There were one couple there at the mainland part of the bay camping so I remained on the rock formation in front of the bay where I parked my kayak between the rocks and opened my thermos and had a coffee and relaxed in the sun. Having a dip in the lake every now and then when I got too hot. This is vary secluded part of the lake so "au naturel" is not a problem. There are usually not too many people along the edge of the lake due to large rocks in the water hidden under the surface along the way, perfect for kayak and canoes. After my coffees and lunch and a good time of relaxation I headed back. Below is a slideshow hope you enjoy it. Sorry the pics from my cellphone aren't the best you should get an idea of what it looks like at Commando Bay.

This past weekend, Team Gorilla went to Gallego river in the spanish Pyrenees, to check the main play wave of the river. Snowmelt already started and river levels are becoming good. This short photo-film shows you the kind of wave it is.