Gusts, crosswinds, and lessons learned.

A gust is a short, abrupt, burst of high speed wind. Self-propelled boat enthusiasts tend to be rather respectful of gusts. First of all, when it begins to get a little gusty, conditions are likely deteriorating on the water. Wind speed is increasing, waves building, and double-bladed paddles are attempting to become effective airfoils...and the "lift" they are developing wants to pull you right out of the kayak! Well, OK, a bit of an exaggeration but sometimes it feels that way. The lightweight, survival bivy sack, carefully tucked into your bailout bag, is beginning to wonder if it will bring you a sufficient degree of comfort - as you seek shelter on an island that is not the island to which you need to return in order to locate your vehicle...and subsequently sleep in your own bed. As gusts increase in intensity, other thoughts run through your mind...such as, I wonder if my VHF radio really is waterproof or, gosh, maybe a dry suit would be worth all that money?!

Gusts that come in the form of a crosswind can be particularly "exciting". Now you have both wind and waves teaming up to roll you over. You know that the first half of your roll is excellent but you wish that you'd spent more serious time in the pool developing the "second half". Sure, high-adrenaline moments are kind of fun but too much of a good thing can ruin your day!

Turning into the wind and  facing those gusts "head on", however, can give you some control, some stability, and a little respite from serious and continuous "brace mode"!

We all know that life can be "gusty". Allowing those oft-unexpected events and situations to become a "cross-wind" may well be asking for trouble, or at the very least, inviting unnecessary "capsizing". Facing life's difficult and awkward events sideways serves to increase our vulnerability. When possible and when able, it seems best to face difficult challenges head on. It's a lot easier to maintain direction and balance and you can even take a break every now and again, just holding your position. And in those moments of respite, there's an opportunity to regain your strength, assess your position, and move forward with confidence and control.

There's always lessons learned in these narrow boats.

Duncan.

Image: Joan, on a favourite day trip, paddling from Fernwood launch site on Saltspring Island to Wallace Island and beyond. Often a brisk crosswind!

Surf’s up, and they're rolling in!

Many of my growing up years were spent a short distance from Lake Ontario, and I always thought of it as, well, a lake, albeit a big lake. Don’t get me wrong, lakes are wonderful. We spent many years enjoying a small lake up in the Madawaska Valley – swimming, boating, water-skiing, sailing, snorkelling, building bonfires on the beach, setting marshmallows on fire, listening to the Beach Boys and Wolfman Jack, and just generally chillin’ out in an early "Sixties" kind of way. (Meaning, that although the potential was always there, we didn’t get into too much trouble!) Sure, lakes are awesome. But they weren’t the ocean. Living in southern Ontario seemed a long way from the mighty Pacific or the Atlantic Oceans. And besides, lakes didn’t have tides, salt water, whales, octopus, seals, starfish, dolphins, sharks, ocean liners, “ex-navy frogman” Mike Nelson (TV's Sea Hunt), or bioluminescence. When we were at the lake, no one could ever say “and if you keep on paddling, you'll get to Hawaii”! (Although with a little time and good weather, we could have paddled over to Niagara Falls, New York). As large as Lake Ontario is, it’s a lake. You could even call it an "inland sea". But it’s not an ocean.

Yesterday we took my mother-in-law for a drive down to a Toronto park on the lake shore. The waves were rolling in. I instantly thought of my kayak, which, according to our eTrex Vista, was safely “racked” exactly 3394 kilometres to the west – as the crow flies. Too bad. This would have been fun - big time! Surfing the incoming waves with the dramatic Toronto skyline as a backdrop? The skyline is rather special because it features the third tallest (thanks a lot Dubai!) free standing structure in the world – the CN Tower. Of course there would be two problems. First of all, the “beach” is made up of unforgiving chunks of concrete, placed there, presumably to prevent erosion. Not much fun for launching or landing. Second, my surf-landing skills are, at best, elementary. (Some would argue less than elementary but what do they know?!) And besides, even the most expert surf-landing would pretty much come apart (literally) on the broken concrete!

The point is, in that moment of time, the lake before me was every bit as exciting as the ocean back home. It was different, but if I’d had my kayak and paddle, a dry suit, AND a high-quality crash helmet it would have been pretty hard to resist the temptation to get out there in the waves.

Life’s a bit like that. We can get stuck on what we feel is authentic, or on what we’ve always understood to be the way things are, or on what we’ve grown comfortable with in our living. We can be reluctant to see the familiar in a fresh light. We resist doing things in new ways because, well, we’ve never done it that way before. (Example: In the frequent rudder vs skeg “discussions”, ever noticed that often the respective proponents have only ever tried one of the two devices? As for me, I would enthusiastically argue that a rudder is much more useful...but, admittedly, I’ve never tried a skeg. Sigh. Point taken?). We even place limitations on ourselves. Ever heard anyone say, “I could never do that!”? Limiting our expectations with respect to ourselves, others, the present, the future (or even lakes for that matter!), serves only to limit our experiences and therefore our opportunities. Life seems way too short for that.

So when is a lake not a lake? When you are open to discovering that it may have some unexpected and tantalizing surprises in store for you! Surf was up and those bad boys were rollin’!

Catch a wave...where you might not expect to find it!

Duncan.

Image: "Surf City "- Lake Ontario, the Toronto skyline with the CN Tower to the right of centre.

Open hearts...

Hearts have opened all around our world in response to the earthquake in Haiti. I know that my usual musings in this space pale in comparison to the simple eloquence of this message of care, concern, and compassion pictured above. Here in Toronto, two young teens and their mum stood on a chilly, windy, street corner this morning. They shared not only the warmth of a steaming cup of hot chocolate, but even more important, their open hearts.

May their example be a heartfelt inspiration to all who pass by.

Duncan.

PS On the subject of love...happy birthday son! M and D.