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last Sunday i finally got to a kayak club pool play session, and i was able to successfully do a heel hook self-rescue. this in spite of having had very little opportunity to work on conditioning - it's that much of a mechanical improvement for my particular body shape and composition. (in the process i also managed to break another of the rubber thingies that substitute for real decklines and bungies.) as i was unloading at home i got the message that my father-in-law had died, so my feeling of triumph was short-lived.
yesterday i figured out how to replace the broken rubber bit on the back deck, and hit up Seattle Fabrics for cordage and fittings to upgrade my decklines and get rid of the rubber once and for all. Seattle Fabrics is a dreamy candy store of all the things you never knew you wanted to be able to make yourself, packaged up as some blend of an old-school outfitter, a neighborhood hardware store, and a theatrical supply shop. somehow a pretty new building still feels like a grotty warehouse inside, with ceiling-high racks of technical fabric, spools of all sorts of cording and webbing mounted on pipes (complete with yardstick and scissors for cutting your own), and wooden drawers of various plastic and metal snaps and clips and other findings (all with an example taped to the front of the drawer). i never knew there were three colors of glotape! and there are patterns to MAKE ALL THE THINGS. i only bought the items that i came for, but i want to get C in there, he will love it.
in the afternoon i did my first solo paddle with the Oru. i still marvel that it's ten minutes from door to water.
photo above is the view coming back in to the boat launch. in the distance is the stop light at 28th and Market; 28th Ave runs directly into the ship canal.
once i got past the end of the marina, i discovered that the boat launch is behind the breakwater for the entrance to the locks. there were two Corps of Engineers barges piled high with storm debris - mostly tree parts, but a variety of junk including several boats (eep). boat traffic was low, but i decided i wasn't ready to find out how much of a current there was around the dam and the lock entrances, so i headed east toward Ballard bridge.
it's always interesting to see the city from the water. it's backstage and inside out from the familiar. there's a marina behind Ballard Ave that's as big or bigger than any on Lake Union, with picnic tables by the water at land end of each set of docks - they're hidden from public view by Pacific Studio. there's a sign that only someone in a small boat could read. there's a floating home completely covered in murals that has a dinghy with a matching paint-job. i looked inside an empty dry dock. i was dwarfed by a trawler. i startled a cormorant. due to darkening skies, i only went to the bridge and back, but i got close enough to Fisherman's Terminal to get a feel for just how huge the Alaska fleet ships really are. i look at them every day on the way to work and they don't seem like they're that much larger than pleasure craft, but that's just forced perspective, they make the helipad-sized yachts look dinky.
i know that exercise generally is good for mood, but the effect that paddling has on me is still remarkable. i assume that it's the combination of exercise and exploration (and i have always loved the water). i found myself singing as i went, and i stayed bubbly all the way through packing up and going home and unpacking and showering and meeting the knittas for a movie.
this was probably my last chance to go out before i go to see my parents, but i feel like i'm set now to build my stamina and work my strokes on the ship canal though the winter.
yesterday i figured out how to replace the broken rubber bit on the back deck, and hit up Seattle Fabrics for cordage and fittings to upgrade my decklines and get rid of the rubber once and for all. Seattle Fabrics is a dreamy candy store of all the things you never knew you wanted to be able to make yourself, packaged up as some blend of an old-school outfitter, a neighborhood hardware store, and a theatrical supply shop. somehow a pretty new building still feels like a grotty warehouse inside, with ceiling-high racks of technical fabric, spools of all sorts of cording and webbing mounted on pipes (complete with yardstick and scissors for cutting your own), and wooden drawers of various plastic and metal snaps and clips and other findings (all with an example taped to the front of the drawer). i never knew there were three colors of glotape! and there are patterns to MAKE ALL THE THINGS. i only bought the items that i came for, but i want to get C in there, he will love it.
in the afternoon i did my first solo paddle with the Oru. i still marvel that it's ten minutes from door to water.
photo above is the view coming back in to the boat launch. in the distance is the stop light at 28th and Market; 28th Ave runs directly into the ship canal.
once i got past the end of the marina, i discovered that the boat launch is behind the breakwater for the entrance to the locks. there were two Corps of Engineers barges piled high with storm debris - mostly tree parts, but a variety of junk including several boats (eep). boat traffic was low, but i decided i wasn't ready to find out how much of a current there was around the dam and the lock entrances, so i headed east toward Ballard bridge.
it's always interesting to see the city from the water. it's backstage and inside out from the familiar. there's a marina behind Ballard Ave that's as big or bigger than any on Lake Union, with picnic tables by the water at land end of each set of docks - they're hidden from public view by Pacific Studio. there's a sign that only someone in a small boat could read. there's a floating home completely covered in murals that has a dinghy with a matching paint-job. i looked inside an empty dry dock. i was dwarfed by a trawler. i startled a cormorant. due to darkening skies, i only went to the bridge and back, but i got close enough to Fisherman's Terminal to get a feel for just how huge the Alaska fleet ships really are. i look at them every day on the way to work and they don't seem like they're that much larger than pleasure craft, but that's just forced perspective, they make the helipad-sized yachts look dinky.
i know that exercise generally is good for mood, but the effect that paddling has on me is still remarkable. i assume that it's the combination of exercise and exploration (and i have always loved the water). i found myself singing as i went, and i stayed bubbly all the way through packing up and going home and unpacking and showering and meeting the knittas for a movie.
this was probably my last chance to go out before i go to see my parents, but i feel like i'm set now to build my stamina and work my strokes on the ship canal though the winter.
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