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Author: PhillyPaddler
Whitewater Dummy's Guide to Sea Kayaking
...with apologies to sea kayak instructors everywhere.
On a recent mini-vacation to Ocean City, MD, Nancy and I decided to try our hands at sea kayaking - or more accurately, bay kayaking. We've never paddled sea kayaks before but figured we'd take it slow and learn-as-we-go. The boat-rental manager at Fenwick Island State Park asked us the requisite questions about wet-exits and self-rescue, probing if we needed a lesson (for an extra fee!). I thought to myself, "We don't need no stinkin lesson... we've been paddling since you were in diapers, sonny!" So, I did what any arrogant whitewater geezer would do and whipped out my ACA card, indicated that I was a certified instructor (omitting that it was just for whitewater) and then pointed to my rescue vest, complete with river knife and whistle. The manager seemed satisfied that I knew something about paddling and just asked us to sign the standard waiver.
We were fitted with a couple of Wilderness Systems sea kayaks. Nancy's boat was shorter than mine and with a more stepped bow. The seats, thigh-braces, footpegs, cockpit and overall width of the boats were similar to a large whitewater kayak. The bottoms of the hulls were V'ed and displacement style while the bows were pointed and upturned. At 14 feet (twice the length of my little Jackson 4Fun playboat), I do recall thinking, "wow...this sucker is long!"
After handing us a couple of snap together paddles and nylon spray skirts, the rental manager inserted two strange objects under the ropewebbing on the rear decks of each boat. Noticing my curious look, he said, "there's a pump and paddle float in case you flip - out THERE" and pointed to the middle of the bay. I remembered reading a tutorial about using an inflatable paddle float to support a wet-re-entry after flipping and then using the pump to get the water out while a buddy held your boat to stabilize. Of course, we had never practiced it but I figured it couldn't be much different than a whitewater boat-over-boat rescue - except for the boat-over-boat part. I nodded, "Sure."
My kayak had a skeg, which is a small fin keel-like-thingy that flips down from the bottom of the hull and helps the boat to track and stabilize. The rental manager warned me about forgetting to flip it up when pulling the boat into shore as it could jam, bend or break if left extended. Hmmm...never had to deal with a skeg-thingy before but looked forward to experimenting with it.
After going over a map of the bay, we slid the boats into the water and I reverted to what I always do when I get in my whitewater boat - warm up by splashing around with some strokes, sweeps and braces. I considered trying a roll but felt that the flimsy nylon spray skirt would not stay on. Everything worked fine except the sweeps. When I arced from the bow or stern with a full sweep or draw, nothing (OK, very little) happened. I found I had to do it several times to get the boat to turn. It was very disconcerting but I figured that I won't be rocketing into any tight eddies or need to make any sudden moves around a wayward raft full of yahoos today.
We headed north along the island shoreline passing mussel-encrusted salt marshes dotted with gulls cormorants, egrets and herons. A light breeze was blowing from the northeast. After getting our feel for handling the boats, we found that they glided and tracked straight as an arrow, requiring very few correcting strokes. In the shallows, schools of tiny fish would dart under our boats and the entire bay seemed to be evenly spread with small white jellyfish that bobbed and jetted just under the surface.
After a couple of exploratory turns into coves between marsh islands, we decided to brave crossing an expanse of the bay, heading directly into the wind. The upturned and pointed bows sliced through inbound swells with ease and we found that we could actually look around while the boat glided on its preset path - something that a whitewater boater rarely can afford without having his/her attention suddenly jolted by a rock or hydraulic. It felt great to be in the middle of a large body of water with the sun and salt-wind in our faces and a huge sky full of puffy clouds and seabirds overhead.
We found a beach at the upper-most end of the bay and slid in for a lunch break. Retrieving our drybags from one of the three deck hatches was a snap compared to the usual pulling and tugging required to extract a lunch from behind the typical whitewater kayak seat. I could see the advantage here by not being subjected to eating squished sandwiches or bruised fruit. Heck, you could stuff a whole chicken dinner in there with pie and a jug of milk.
While eating lunch, we watched several gannets swoop over the water and repeatedly collapse their wings in plunging dives for small fish. Overhead, the cloud formations were an amazing mixture of swirls and dots and Nancy was reminded of a Nova Scotia saying that she heard long ago:
"Mackerel sky and mare's tails make lofty ships lower their sails." Meaning, expect wind.
The wind was picking up as we got back in and headed directly across the bay toward a nature preserve we had seen on the map. With the wind, came swells and waves and we found ourselves being broadsided by both. The long boats wobbled with an instability that felt like a whitewater ferry gone wrong. On this track across the bay, I guessed we were angled wrong and I found myself putting in bracing and correcting strokes on the downwind side of the boat as waves passed under me - especially if I slowed and lost forward momentum. At that point, I remembered the skeg-thingy and when I flipped it down, the boat instantly became more manageable and less tippy. I felt like 007 who had just remembered a nifty save-your-butt gadget installed by Q. Cool device, that skeg-thingy. Nancy and I were both glad to get out of the wind and waves behind a small marsh island. At that point, we agreed to start heading back rather than search for the nature preserve. This would involve crossing the bay (again) and heading downwind to get back to the take-out. Nancy chose sort of a downwind angle across the bay and I decided to do a kind of upwind ferry with my bow angled into the wind and swells. This worked well on keeping the boat stable as I punched through waves but crossing the bay was slow. Once I was close to the far shoreline, I spun around and paddled with the wind at my back. It was loads of fun to ride the swells as each one felt like surfing a small river wave.
We both had a great time learning and experimenting with a different kind of kayaking. The experience gave us both an appreciation for the factors that every sea kayaker needs to heed: weather, wind, tide, current, potential for a flip/swim (when you're a mile from shore), sun (it's bright out there!), sea-life and bugs that might like to sting/bite/eat you and navigating across wide expanses of water without getting lost. Yes, we do plan to get proper instruction before going out again - if just for not being labeled as sea kayak yahoos! In the past, my standard excuse to avoid alternative paddling venues was that it took all of my available time and energy just to be a half-a**ed whitewater boater. Who knows, maybe I can divide that time and also be a half-a**ed sea kayaker, as well.
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