From Florence and surroundings

Here is a pic you won't see on kaykawisconsin.net. No siree. I found a rec kayaker...IN ITALY on the greenish Arno river. He has a 90 degree feathered paddle and a smooth stroke with a nice pause at the top...although, he did seem to be an arm paddler. I yelled out JB's name and number for him to call for lessons...in English.


Here is a view of the Arno from one of its many bridges:

And, finally, here is a shot of the olive trees behind the villa....er, trailer;

There it is, a hard day's output, and all before siesta time.

Miss the big lake and am ready to come home. We leave here, by car, on saturday for Lake Como and home (by plane, not car) after the weekend. I will continue to make these little posts when ever I can and to share some of the scenery.

Everybody...

Paddle safe

DS

There is Life after Roma

Rome was an amazing city, and one of contrasts. Here is sthe closest thing to sea kayaking I could find:
(excuse the quality of the pics while I am away. I am using a Rube Goldberg set up to get them posted and edited...but I digress)

This is the closest it came to white water action:


There were beggars:And there was garbage...everywhere:

So, we followed the signs and headed by train to Florence, then by car to a villa up in the hills where they grow olives and make oil (oglio...the g is silent)

This is a view looking out from our tent, and above is our camp site (we are, of course, roughing it. The entire place isn't ours:).

Now, more than anything, I want to respect the local culture. So, Having had bread, cheese, fruit, etc. for lunch, I must decide whether to siesta or join Lady Linda pool side. Desicions. Decisions. Desicions.

Y'all paddle safe...

DS

Living the good life

Well, 65 years ago, when I was born in the housing projects of Milwaukee (Park Lawn), I never thought I would be celebrating my 30th year of wedlock in a villa in the hills abouve Florence. Life has been good, very good, to me. Good health, with some dramatic exceptions, fabulous career and wonderful family...I am blessed.

Lenora, the gal who runs things here, says I can plug in a card and download some pics...maybe tomorrow. I will if I can.

Good wishes to all, may life treat you as good as it has been treating me (never know what tomorrow will bring).

Yesterday's post got messed up. I ragged on Derrick for talking about dry suits and cold water. I also reminded him to remind his wife that JB and I are moving in with them for the winter so we can use the pool daily. Meanwhile.....

Paddle safe

Rome Ruminations

I really am frustrated that I am unable to post pics from this internet location. We leave for Florence tomorrow, and I am told there will be WiFi available there. With pictures, I will be able to show you the parallel lives of kayakers and scooter riders. They are so alike. As far as sea kayakers go...well, there are some Mercedes autos here, but I think they are driven for mostly government officials.

It is all the more frustrating knowing that the ocean is not far away. It is, however, not in the cards for this trip.

Just read old Derrick spoil everyone's fun Mayoleth's blog (kayakwisconsin.net). The guy is already yelling about drysuits and water temps below 40. That's the type of thing that starts panics and false rumors of the world coming to an end. And after JB and I showed him such a nice time on our body temperature big lake.

Which reminds me to tell Derrick to remind his wife that JB and I are moving in with them for the winter so we can spend 8 days a week in a pool like he does. And we don't plan to wear dry suits.

Looking at other matters (photos would, unfortunately help here, too), there are an incredible number of beggars on the streets. Men and women. I am aware how socialistic Europe often criticizes the good old USA about socialized medicine and their way of life. They have some valid points to make, but why are all these people out on the streets begging? I ask that honestly (and am not in for a political debate), as I thought a socialized system would provide for all. I clearly need to learn more.

Before going off on any more secants, I will wish all well and continue my travels. Mean while, you...
Paddle safe
DS

More Ramblings from Roma

Saw the colleseum (again), and it still hasn't been fixed. Actually, it is patched up like my old Romany. Took the tour and saw some interesting sites I hadn't seen before. Most of the guides we've had are from New Zeland. A pleasant bunch. Reminds me of the good folks I met when in Australia a few years ago.

My lap top is filling with pictures mostly of interest to myself. I will, however, share some when I can find WiFi, maybe in Florence.

Now it is back onto the busy streets where I repeadedly mistaken for some swarthy Italian movie star whom I apparently resemble. Boy, is Lady Linda getting sick of young vestal natives hitting on me. Oh well, my burden to bear. I will deal with it. Meanwhile, you...
Paddle Safe...
DS Ciao

From Roma:

No kayak sightings in this ancient city. One shell on the river which is traditionally polluted like ours. Never saw a kayak rack. But there is much here to which kayakers can relate.

No need to be bothered by the smell of dank neoprene. Here, the odors of the day are diesel fumes augmented by a cadre of millions who freely blow their smoke everywhere. Fear crossing busy shipping lanes? If so, you would never make it across the street here.

Traffic is like a pool sessions with excessive numbers of white water paddlers. They are and go everywhere and in every direction without any indication of intent. Every last one of them wears a helmet. I.ve not seen it, but I suspect they all roll...or attempt to, because I constatly am hearing ambulances rushing to and fro.

They dress better than paddlers do and, for the most part, seem to smell better.

I have been here before and am again because Lady Linda wanted to come for our 30th wedding celebration. The vatican museum is updated and the crowds are larger, much larger, than they were when I was here about 35 years ago. Thousands sit around the Spanish Steps and the Trevi fountain for no other reason than thousands sit around the steps and the fountain.

There was one Welsh couple on our tour, but I fought the impulse to ask them why they cannot make a quality kayak out of a good design. Diplomacy won out. Quality control may have suffered.

I am okay being here, and would rather be home. Seeing old stuff that looks exactly like the pictures in books, walking all day in 90 degree heat, having near-death walking experiences, constantly inhaling fumes and smoke, AND NO PADDLING aren't my idea of ideal.

I am getting some nice images and will share them when I return unless I can find a way to do so sooner.

I will look both ways if you promise toPaddle Safe...
DS (missing you all)

Wish me well

I hate traveling, especially by air. Never mind that I was a flight surgeon in F-105s and was trained in parachutes and ejection seats. Never mind the terrorism thing. Never mind that my anniversary is on 9/11 (our 25th was on the big 9/11).


What I dislike is the waiting, the whole baggage thing and the looooong flights with window shades drawn. But, Lady Linda wishes to go to Rome, and (get this) it's her treat. So we are gong to Rome and a few other cities which I forget. I was there once before and suspect it will look the same.

What I will be looking for is the European relaxed style of living with more wine, smaller meals and lots of walking. And great light. It is said that Tuscany has fabulous light for photography. We shall see.

I am taking a lap top along with photo equipment and promise to post and share as often as I can while being relaxed and under the influence of wine. If all goes well, I shall return to these shores on the 19th and return to the winter lock down as it approaches.

Just now, I have to load the Romany on the Blazer and meet JB and Derrick (see his blog today: kayakwisconsin.net) for a frolic on Lake Michigan.

Until next time...
Paddle safe...
DS

There is a season...

It has always been true. Just as the spring of childhood gives way to the summer of youth and summer gives way to the fall of middle age, autumn will eventually yield to the winter...the time of the king and the crone. It has always been true for the planet. It has always been true for the body. It has always been true for the soul.

I enjoyed an hour off Bradford Beach yesterday. The wind has been from the east for a while (it does that as fall approaches) and the shallows were sporting 3-4 waves, some dumpers. Back and forth I went, taking them on the beam, often by simply edging a bit into them, occassionally offering a brief low brace. It was pure play and fun as I enjoyed the unusually warm waters only an on shore wind can bring to the Lake Michigan shore. I enjoyed it as I packed away more memories for the winter ahead.


As I carried my boat up the beach, then up the little incline, then onto my car, I felt tired. Too tired for the little work I'd done. It took a bit of time for my heart rate to come down, and I listened (as I always have) to the message my body was sending: Winter is coming sooner than later.

I speak, of course, not of the climate but, rather, of the inevitable winter of the soul. At 65, I remain fairly fit (5'9" 170 pounds). My flexibility is still fair, and I can "kiss the deck" on a forward finishing roll. And it all gets a bit harder with each cycle of the seasons.


This is not meant as a maudlin piece but, rather, a celebration of all the blessings of a life (so far) fully being lived. I think back at all the illnesses, the injuries and the rare surgery that didn't kill me and made me tougher. I know that if I do too much of that remembering in a rocking chair that I will, one day too soon, not be able to get back up. That truth doesn't scare me. It just reminds me of who I am and in which season I live.

Perhaps it is a good thing that Lady Linda and I are about to depart on a 2 week vacation. Perhaps it is a good thing that we will be doing a lot of walking and that I will not be in a boat for all that time. Perhaps I will discover new endurance while muscles heavily used get a rest.

I know that the season will turn while I am away and that I will face colder air and, soon, colder waters. (And I will get older as well). And, when it does, I must remember that the seasons do turn and turn endlessly and that winter will, eventually, give way to spring and summer, no matter how old I am or feel.

While I am away, I will write whenever I find internet access. I will make every effort to share images of where I go. Meanwhile...

Paddle safe...
DS

Final Thoughts on QAJAQ camp

Thinking back on last weekend, it was the whole Gestaltd that I liked. Away from contact with the contemporary world and its variety of characters, this was a place for traditional paddling and a whole new cast of our very own charactures. And every sight told that story.

(Turner in his signature brown tuilik and white beard.)

Everywhere I looked there were skin on frame boats and folks in tuiliks. And not a euro paddle in sight.

And, everywhere, people talking doing and...mostly...teaching one another. It was hard at times to say who was the student and who was the teacher. In the end, we all took a turn at being both.

And there was the endless play among friends. Some of these people see one another frequently and are not bashful about tipping a friend over or jumping on their fore deck for a conversation.

I need to store these images up on my computer and in my memory for the winter months ahead when Lake Michigan begins freezing and the pool at the Y becomes a poor second choice for rolling.

Paddle safe..

DS

It's lurking around,
and I can feel it

(a personal story)

Several years ago, at a fine arts photography workshop, a young girl showed what at first seemed to be an unrelated bunch of poorly shot 8x10 photos. The rest of us had 11x14, well-executed images mounted on museum quality boards. It seemed that she was not going to be up to standards.

Many of her photos were of a girl or a woman lying on a bed, and many were out of focus. As she put these images up, one by one, she came to a particular picture that showed several medication vials. One label was in focus. It showed her name and the name of an antidepressant. The pictorial, as it turned out, was a heroic documentary of a depressive episode she had suffered. When the session broke up for dinner, four of us just kind of hung back and gathered around her. As we all made eye contact, no one had to speak. We knew why we had stayed. We all had, at one time or another, suffered significant depression. We all knew the pain of that dark, unforgiving and hopeless pit, and we knew no one who had never been there could ever understand how horrible a place it is.


The air now is cooler at night, and the sun is setting earlier each day. Intellectually, I know that the serotonin levels in my brain will soon begin to drop along with my levels of vitamin D. I know it is time to get my bright light box out of the basement and to spend as much time as I can before it as I read the morning paper. I know that signs that look like this:


Could easily begin to look like this:

I once had a lumbar disc slip out of place and literally send me to the floor screaming in pain. It felt as if a truck had parked on my leg. It was the the second worst pain I have ever known. Still, I would accept that pain gladly rather than experience again the hopeless blackness which I and my fellow photographers know all too well.

I am a happy guy now and have been blessed with the best of everything in life. And, I need to remember that, repeat it in my head, as a mantra and add it to my arsenal of bright light and exercise as winter approaches.

If you have been to that dark place, you need no further explanations. If you have not, none is possible.

Paddle safe...and be happy.
DS

More Eye Candy
and
Memories of Camp

At the QAJAQ USA Training Camp there are, basically, only two rules...and only one of them is a hard and fast rule: no euro paddles. (The other is don't wet exit, it wastes time). Upon arrival, and throughout the weekend, one becomes acutely aware that they are among a unique group of people. Here, after all, are not just paddlers. Here are not just a sub set of paddlers called kayakers. Here are traditional kayakers, men and women interested in the old ways of rolling and paddling and constructing boats.

Lots of paddles and traditional syle boats hanging and sitting around affirm this concept. Even the presence of tuiliks hanging out to dry is an indication that this is not your usual on the water bunch.

Here, one can enjoy the details of traditionally designed craft and some modern adaptations..

And, of course, the best eye candy is the elegant design lines of some of the Greenland style boats. There were some built-to-roll-on-a-whim ones and some copies of ancient designs. All were sleek with narrow beams and low decks, especially in the back. Staring hour after hour at the scene on shore and afloat, I could almost forget which time period I was experiencing, and I realize that a good part of my love of Judo and Traditional Sea Kayaking is due to the rich traditions and history that comes as part of the sport.

Paddle safe

DS

Eye Candy

From the moment I arrived at the QAJAQ USA Training Camp, I knew I sahould have brought my good SLR camera. There was too much to see, too many waiting-to-be-recorded images; but I was determined to make do with my little waterproof one.

What I didn't expect was to have my back be one of the images.

No matter, there were prettier sights. Right off was the beach where we were to leave our bags (on the dock for the pontoon boat to take over to camp) and launch for the paddle to the site.

Even the wind, which blew until late the next day, provided satisfying imagery:

Once on site, there were endless images of boats and boat parts. I will be showing more of them in the future. Here is a nice Baidarka hull along side one of the wooden boats:

Once things got underway, there were infinite things to see. Often, the activities took on a chaotic look, but don't be fooled. Within each cloister of boats teaching and exhange of information was happening. It just looked chaotic.

More later. Now, I have to ponder whether to try and pad out and rasp down my coaming, or sell my SOF and get another.

Paddle safe...

DS

Bloodied and Unbowed

QAJAQ USA Training Camp for 2006 is over. I returned home at around 2 am after some driving and a ferry ride across Lake Michigan. In the days that follow I will be presenting some images and talking a little about the camp. Enough to say today that it was quite successful, I met more nice folks and learned new stuff. I also tore my sking apart.

Seems the skin on frame kayak I built "to fit me" has too high a combing at the back. By the end of camp I refrained from all rolls that finished on the back deck. When I would miss a roll and had to go to my "go to roll" (which happens to be a basic sweep with a back deck finish), I would grit my teeth and "cheat" near the end with downward force on the paddle to minimize by contact with the combing (I am debating sharing a picture of my back side).



Right now, I am waiting for the Advil to kick in as I have that pleasant ache from muscles being used for the first time. I worked hard spending a lot of time on the water...and slept like a baby.

So, I am going to spend this day sorting gear, de-stinking base layers, down loading and cropping pictures I took and (depending on whose advise I employ), taking a rasp or chain saw to my boat. I also need a source of either minicell (closed) and/or neoprene to rebuild a back rest.

So much to do, so little time. More tomorrow.
Paddle safe....
DS

The View from Below

(see Derrick's blog today...kayakwisconsin.net...it goes well with this one...and a white wine)

Not all my time on Lake Michigan has been in kayaks. I have owned power and sail boats, and the finest was a Han Christian 42-foot cutter with a 6 foot bow sprit. She had the motion of a large ship, pitching up and down into head seas, and I liked to sit out on the bow with my feet hanging over each side and dipping into the water to my knees as she pitched.

The problem with big boats (I also had a wonderful 50-foot pilot house trawler) is that, along with the amenities, they provide you with a high up point of view well off the water which, after a while, left me with the feeling of being in a movie about being on a boat and not really being on the water. From atop the fly bridge (pilot house) it seemed as if I was outside looking in. But not so with a kayak.

Our little crafts, which are as sea worthy as most sail boats and almost all power boats, have few amenities...save one. The view. Being down on the water (hey, our butts, mathematically speaking, are under the water...but I digress) provides us with a view only known to fishes, gulls and other kayakers.


Gliding along, I can splash some water onto myself to help cool down. I can just hang my hands in the drink to feel the environment. I can, with the help of my polaroid lenses and a calm surface, actually see into another world, the world of water. And, I am acutely aware of what condition we have left the waters in. And, I feel every surge and undulation of the water, and I feel that the lake/sea is truly alive.


The only thing that could come close to such an experience, at least for me, would be floating or swimming without any boat at all. But, then where would I put my camera, paddle float, water bottle and pump?

(I am off to QAJAQ USA camp this evening. Next blog on Monday ds)

Paddle safe
DS

How low can I go...tech-wise?

(confessions of a man without an I-pod)

(a rambling)

Just woke, the sun hasn't. I went to Derrick's site (kayakwisconsin.net) and was treated to a video of some whitewater yahoos almost buying the farm by being sucked into a hole. For you not of the faith, a hole is a phenomena at the bottom of some waterfalls. Without going into the physics, the hole can repeadedly pull a kayaker (with his boat) under the water... repeadedly...until something happens or the guy drowns. Don't get me digressing.

The point here is that I went from life's most primitive state of being...being sleep...to this overwhelming (okay, pretty good) demonstration of electronic visual communication. Suddenly, my blank sheet of paper (read: monitor screen) looks bleak and outdated. Sure, I put up a picture now and then, but pictures have been around for ever. Am I, who recently learned how to use the Insert key on my computer, to now learn to upload videos (which I rarely take and of which I own none) to stay in the game and be up to date? I think not.

I will, instead, become the agent, the ten-percenter, the guy who refers you to the guy who can do. Like all those guys on TV and in magazines who, for a hefty fee, will help you make money in stocks and real estate. Never mind that if they knew how to do it they would do it themselves. Fact is (this is the longest I've gone to make a weak point), it is safer to teach something for a sure fee and let the student take the risk of executing the plan.

But not in paddling (he saves this driveling piece, at last). Sure, one could write a book, but to teach the sport you have to be out there doing it and, it would seem to follow, able to do it. Walk the walk, float the float and paddle thepaddle, avoid getting sucked under...as it were.

I believe I've made my point, what ever it was. So, lacking anything worthwhile on my mind, I will go meet other like-minded paddlers for coffee. Go watch Derrick's video and come back when my low-tech head is filled with more worthy ideas.

Paddle safe
DS

Words can't begin to...

JB, Greg and I had one of those satisfying paddles on Lake Michigan last evening. There was wind, chop and clapotis at the onset but, as the sun dropped behind the horizon, everything got quiet. It was serene, and it felt like I never wanted to leave the water. Words can't begin to...

Paddle safe

DS

One day/stroke at a time

on the big waters

When I sat down to write this morning I felt only sadness. In spite of several consecutive days on the water, dozens of succesful rolls and the arrival of my new tuilik, I cannot focus on kayaking today.

A young neighbor boy/man was recently released after doing 6 months in a jail-drug program. I have never saw him looking so good. He had cleaned up, done exercises and worked the program. His demeanor had changed, and he even indicated that he wanted to talk to me about the men's work I do and some of the programs in which I am involved.

Having had someone in my family with a similar problem (and, thank you, doing extemely well), I took heart in his metamorphosis. I needed to because I needed to believe that my loved one is also safe.

Yesterday, my young friend went to the Packer game in Green Bay. Since part of his probation is the loss of his driver's license, he rode with a buddy. At the game, his friend had several beers and my reborn neighbor had one or two. No big deal, except that he is expected to be 100% sobber. No drugs, no alcohol. Shortly after starting their drive home, his friend decided that he was too drunk to drive, so my young neighbor drove instead. You can guess the rest. They were stopped, the police ran his name, and he was jailed somewhere near Sheboygan for parole violation. There is a good chance that he will have to finish his 7 months doing hard time.

As I sit here, I am not clear whether I feel worse for him or his mother (father long ago out of the picture). Certainly, I ache for him. After all, that could be my own loved one. Yet, having worked my own program, I know that no one, save for the person them self, can control any of this. So, I ache--and fear--as if I were the mother.

It is a bit like the post traumatic stress syndrome in which the ringing of the phone causes a reflex knot in the gut. Is this the call with the bad news? Well, yesteday it was...for a family near by.

If I am to release the sadness of this event--and even tie it into paddling--I can only point out that we are each responsible for ourselves, that, in a very real way, we are at the mercy of a higher power out there and, finally, that I can care about you and try to rescue you, but in the end I cannot control your bad decisions...for which you must pay the consequences...along with all those who care about you. It's a big world out there...the waters are deep and vast.

Paddle safe

DS

There's more than one way
to skin anything

(or, how I met Tim)

Yesterday, after a nice paddle with one of the gals from the Milwaukee group, we headed into South Shore launch area for lunch. I wasn't sure at first, but I thought I saw a guy landing a Kleper (folding) kayak. I think it was the color that made me think that because, as I got closer it became evident that this was no ordinary kayak and most certainly not a contemporary design.

As he stepped out of his boat, we glided up, and I asked him what it was that he was paddling. He told me he had built what was, in essence, a skin on frame boat. At first it wouldn't stay upright, he explained, until he flattened the bottom. He had worked with no plans.

He'd used canvas but not oil paint. The stringers were on the thin side, and he had broken some when he first used the boat. That problems was solved with some foam blocks in the cockpit.

It immediately occured to me that he had an intringing vessels and that he was a very nice guy. I asked if I could paddle it. I could. I had a ball. It made those racing sit-on-top-thong-things seem stable. I made one half forward-half bracing stroke after another before finally tipping over. It was hard to empty since it held about 4 tons of water when full. I loved it. Pure fun. And I admired a young man who wanted to be on water enough to make such a contraption.

This man, I thought, should be a sea kayaker. He already had met Sheri, so he knew what kayaks were. We explained the first and second stability thing to him and, then, put him in Diane's boat. I wish you all could have seen the look of pleasure and discovery on his face as he paddled around just off the beach. And, he looked like a natural.

I hope he gets a regular boat. I hope he visits us on Sundays when we paddle. I hope he gets to meet Greg who, I am guessing, will turn out to be a Rube-Goldberg soul mate. I hope he paddles safely.

Paddle safe

DS