works of wanderlust

Tag: kayaking

  • weekend wrap, fourteen

    It’s September, and the last few days of August were a long weekend that was busy and activity-filled and definitely not wasted for the last day of summer holidays.

    Friday evening I got my board shorts on and sat in front of the computer for a a solid two hours attending the kick off board meeting for the start of the new orchestra season.  We start rehearsing again in less than a week, but being on the board (kinda—I’m more of a committee head) means sacrificing an occasional evening to make things work behind the scenes. Just too bad it was a Friday of a long weekend this year.

    With the heat wave, I hadn’t been out running all week, so I decided last minute to go check out Park Run. It just about killed me, but I pulled out a sub-30 five klick run.

    Otherwise it was a pretty quiet Saturday, up until Karin and I went out for dinner—and then stopped by the pop-up Night Market in the nearby Rec Centre parking lot. It’s a new event some group is trying to get going, and it seemed like a lot of fun and busy too.

    I went back later with my camera, walking over after the sun set, so I could play around with some low light night photography in a crowd.

    Sunday morning it was another normal day for a group run, which was a good thing that (a) we started early because the heat came on later and (b) ran at all, because the smoke came on later, too.

    Karin and I got rolling shortly after and got the kayak out on the river for a two hour paddle down the North Saskatchewan with the dog as our only passenger.

    But all that action darn near wore me out so we crashed on the couch that evening.

    Monday was a stat holiday, and as such we had planned a breakfast run meetup. The plan, as per usual, was to park near A&W, run five klicks and then go for breakfast. Sadly, the smoke had rolled in and the air quality was at a 10 plus. The verdict and consensus was to skip the run and just go for breakfast. Smart.

    I don’t really know where the rest of the day went. The kid has been filming her friends doing silly things in the backyard for a “Taskmaster” party she is planning, so we mostly just kept quiet and out of her way until dinner.

    I figured I should get some physical activity in, tho, so the Kid and I went to the Rec Center and I ran laps while she did some strength training.

    But that was that, and we came home so she could finish prepping for her first day of University (today) and I could settle back in for the end of summer… well, summer holidays.

  • adventure: mountain kayaks

    The lakes of the Shuswap region of central British Columbia are deep and clear, mountain reservoirs nestled between the diminishing elevations of the rocky mountains that ripple through the middle of the province. According to Wikipedia the wandering many-armed lake has an average depth of over sixty meters, a deepest point over one hundred and fifty meters, and covers a surface area of over three hundred square kilometres.

    Our adventures in kayaks were barely a fraction of a fraction of that scope, but even so it gave me a taste of the place and the vibe with a kind of intimacy that is only found by moving through a space under one’s own muscle power.

    A lot of people live in the region marked by the shores of the Shuswap Lake, dozens if not hundreds of small communities line the banks. A few of those people are the relatives on my wife’s side of the family who, after living in Northern Alberta for most of their lives bought a permanent home a few steps from where they used to vacation each summer and moved. The family that we used to travel up to visit in a remote northern agricultural community now live an enviable life in the microclimate wine region of the country, boating and sunning and living their best days. And, as it was, hosting an anniversary party on the Saturday evening of last weekend.  

    We made the ten hour drive over the continental divide mountain passes and along busy summer highways through the national parks, and checked into a posh vacation rental down a remote road along the shore of one arm of the lake. The luxury house sat in the woods and opened with a view out over the water a few dozen meters below and the rolling mountain ranges a dozen kilometres to the north. And like some lucky fortune ready-made-for-an-airbnb-advert the beautiful home for which we had five days of exclusive possession also had privileges to a private dock on the lake and a trio of kayaks waiting on the shore.

    Of course in a span of five days the weather was not always on our side, but at least four times both time and climate were on our side, and we trod down to the edge of the water with our life vests in hand and clambered into our various watercraft. My wife is a fan of the stand up paddle-board. We bought ourselves one with our airline reward points during the pandemic when we were not traveling far and needed summer activities. I am more of a kayak guy myself, and did we not live in a landlocked city with naught much recreational water but a flowing river and a smattering of shallow swampy lakes I would likely have a kayak of my own strapped to my truck for the duration of the summer. 

    The Shuswap Lake is huge when one enters it in the protection of nothing but a yellow, plastic bath toy. I was not afraid of the boat ever really capsizing in the calm summer waters, but the lake is home to countless recreational motor boats ferrying sports fishers, or pulling water skiers, or cruising the coves. The area is also well known for a houseboating culture where two-story bricks like bloated RVs on floats toddle around the lake blasting party music and hosting happy families swimming from the sides or lounging on their decks. I was never worried about nature, but I was somewhat worried about getting trounced by a speeding motorboat that didn’t see my florescent yellow glow in the glare of the sunshine bouncing off the water.

    Yet I paddled around and around and out and back and around some more. I was out on the water for hours, baking my skin in the unshaded heat as I toured our little stretch of private coastline. All the while I tracked the progress with my Garmin and despite my untiring efforts paddling through the deep blue waters of the lake when I went back to the house and loaded my GPS map onto the screen the little squiggled line of my travels was barely a toe in the vast waters. It had felt like I had gone half way across the lake at one point but in reality it was no more than five percent of the distance that I’d covered with all my efforts.

    Given more time and a better plan, a lack of obligation to attend to family events or the other duties of adulthood I may have set off with a tent and supplies and spent the whole summer paddling the circumference of the lake. I would wager there is at least a few hundred kilometres of coastline to explore.  And as we were driving home, spending over an hour at speed driving along the arm of the lake that led us back towards the mountain passes, I pondered if anyone has ever thought of or facilitated such a thing. Certainly I am not the first to wonder about a month-long trek along the long lake shore, stopping to camp and enjoy, wandering into any of those communities to buy local fruit and wine, avoiding the houseboats and water-skiers, and paddling through the cool, deep mountain waters without a care. 

  • Inflatable Summer

    December 7 of 31 December-ish posts

    Following my (un)inflatable winter, when last spring finally rolled around I was able to unpack my inflatable kayak from it’s box, spread it out on my small backyard lawn, and figure out how to work this fabulous new toy that had spent the winter taunting me from my basement storage room.

    What excited you most in 2022?

    We took the new kayak out multiple times over the spring and summer.

    Our inaugural trip was a twelve klick journey down part of the river that winds through the middle of our city, the dog perched with her paws on the edge of the craft and all of us watching the world drift by as we slowly paddled downstream to where we’d left our truck.

    The rest of the season had us carting the gear around the province in the back of our car wherever else we found ourselves travelling. To the lake with friends where the boat rarely left the water for the entire day as everyone took turns, or out to the mountains for a chilly traverse of an expansive reservoir, we pumped, paddled, and deflated our new vessel on many of our little local adventures.

    Enjoy some photos I didn’t get around to posting earlier this year.

    Our not-so-new-anymore kayak is all dried and folded up for the winter, now, but I think we’ll be seeing a lot more of it next year again.

  • A Neglected Blog Update

    I really hate writing those posts that wax apologetic for not writing for some span of time, promising to do better, and lamenting that life is just so busy that — gosh! — if only there were an extra hour each day…

    I’ve been refocused other places, and in the blur of spring snow storms and back to work and another mess of COVID infections in every other person I know, I’ve not had too much interesting to write about.

    Not too much…

    A little bit.

    I’ve been running a lot. I ran a ten miler (sixteen klick) race on the weekend, a race for which I aggressively overdressed as a result of waking up at 6am while it was still frosty outside for a 9am start when the sun had turned it into a nice day. I’d been training really well, too, completing a two week streak at the start of April as I ran every day to get into the spring fitness mode, and started the annual hill training regimen. The icy sidewalks cleared just as March ended and despite a few mornings with fresh spring snow the trails have been ideal for plodding along and burning in some mileage. All that said, and as April nears an end, I’m solidly bagged and could use a breather for a day or two.

    I’ve been drawing a lot. It seems odd that an old obsession has resurfaced so acutely in my life. My back-to-work bag is half-stuffed with sketchbooks and pens alongside my laptop and folios. I spend lunch breaks finding quiet places to sit and draw little mini artworks downtown. And back at home, I’ve been taking courses in watercolour, mostly online but in a couple weeks an in-person flower-painting session in the local conservatory, as I hone my painting skills and start to generate images that are more than just muddy smudges on expensive paper.

    I’ve been getting ready for adventure. Last summer we had bought ourselves two inflatable kayaks. The first was a cheaper model that was more of a toy, but it was in stock. The second was backordered, significantly higher end (as far as inflatable recreational sports equipment goes anyhow) and didn’t arrive on our doorstep until the fall as the waterways were starting to ice over. I’ve unpacked all that equipment and I’ve started making some plans for some down-river excursions as the days get a little warmer (it’s snowing again this morning as I write this!) A day-long traversal of the city by kayak in June seems like a great idea.

    And I’ve been cooking. Re-adjusting my bread-baking schedule around back-to-the-office has been a small challenge and reminded me why I didn’t do it so much back prior to pandemic times. And having cleaned up both the barbecue and the outdoor firepit, this upcoming weekend is looking hopeful as the seasonal inaugural outdoor cookoff, with some grilled meats and veggies atop an open backyard fire, complete with whatever I can think to cook in those cast iron pans that have been wasting their adventure potential indoors on a gas stove rather than over open flame.

    I’ll write more soon. I promise.

    If only there were another hour in the day.

  • (Un)inflatable Winter

    At the risk of writing a (slightly) political article alluding to some opinions about supply chains and the state of the modern world, I wanted to share what (finally) arrived on my doorstep yesterday.

    A box.

    In fact, it was a large box, and a box I’d ordered … in June.

    In June, we were undergoing record heat, the days were long, and ahead of us were all sorts of free summer weekends filled with plans and potential for getaways to the mountains or nearby lakes or anywhere our pandemic lockdown selves could reach in a car without crossing borders.

    We optimistically ordered an inflatable kayak. And not just any old blow-up boat. We did some research, trialed some rentals, talked to people who know about these things, and ultimately invested in a fairly mid-to-high-end kayak made of sturdy materials and meant for real, practical outings.

    It never shipped.

    We received a notice about it being low in stock, then out of stock, then anticipated back in stock any day, and then a simple we’ll update you about your order when we have more information.

    After a month of waiting we cautiously ordered a second (much cheaper) inflatable kayak … if only because we had lodged it into our hearts that we wanted to get out on the water in one form or another. Summer was short. Summer is always short. Had the first one shipped in the meanwhile we would return the second. Or, alternatively, keep it for the kid (there are three of us and a dog, after all.) But it seemed like summer was slipping away while we waiting for an invisible manufacturing or shipping problem to resolve itself.

    The replacement arrived quickly, and so July and August were peppered with outings in our bright yellow inflatable dinghy-come-kayak, more of an oblong boat or a canoe-shaped raft toy than a proper adventure tool.

    No word on the first kayak.

    We went out once in September but already the weather was starting to cool and the risk of falling in the water and chilling too much was not sitting well with my practical sensibilities on the noob kayaker front.

    Still, no original kayak arrived.

    October came and dwindled. On some of my morning runs I noted that the creeks had a layer of ice on them already as the overnight temperatures consistently dipped into the sub-zero freezing range. I packed up the big yellow kayak into our winter storage space and resigned myself to start thinking about snowier sports.

    Then on Halloween, a shipping notice arrived in my email, and a few days later a big cardboard box was dropped off on the front step.

    The original kayak had arrived.

    Just in time for winter.

    Just in time to drop it into my storage space … and dream about next year’s kayaking adventures.