As a young man touring on a bicycle, I was able to travel light. We'd make camp and stand back to look, and it appeared that no one was there. A bag of rice for a pillow and a sleeping pad and Primus stove and water bottle, and we were set. Vespa camping allowed for more distance covered, but still didn't require much equipment, and Scamping is still an adventure. The speed is slower, but the need to keep an eye on the weather and tend to the boat is where the adventure is. I've decided that there's a common thread for me among these modes of travel: I like to know roughly where I am, but I don't really plan where I'm going. In the Scamp, I have almost total freedom to anchor wherever I want (that's safe), so my adventure basically plans itself. I can go where the wind sends me and see what comes up.
A few years ago, I was ghosting through some islands in the South Salish sea at extreme low tide, and I was treated to a big convention of bald eagles waddling around on the exposed beaches. There were probably eighty or ninety very big birds over a distance of half a mile, and their behavior did not match the elegant "National Bird" image. In the air, these birds inspire oohs and aahs, but on the beach, their grace disappears. I was reminded of a bunch of squabbling Thanksgiving turkeys lumbering and waddling back and forth and stealing from their neighbors and other birds. I was able, boards up and sail just drawing, to coast through this bird party at close range, and they completely ignored me while I had a National Geographic experience. These experiences are what keep us coming back to gather with the whales and otters and seals and birds, and a small boat with a sail is our magic carpet.
Upcoming I've planned one more TX200 trip, slightly modified this time.
I've always been aggravated that the TX200 is scheduled the second weekend in June, the same weekend that the Texas Water Safari starts. There are quite good reasons for same, schools are out and the hurricane season hasn't started yet, but it's still an aggravation.
This year I plan to start from the TX200 finish at Magnolia Beach a day early on Sunday and sail down to Seadrift to see the early water safari canoes arrive at Swan Point. From there I'll try to meet up with the TX 200 fleet at Paul's Mott. Timing for all this is amorphous at best, so many variables; weather, wind, river conditions on two rivers, it will be what it will be.
I miss the Safari, two years ago I went down to follow the race when I didn't get QB ready for the TX 200 but bailed out early with phone problems part way through the race. I've known a number of the competitors for a very long time now and we are all starting to age out, some of their grandchildren are now competitive i think.
I've learned a lot from the TX200 both about myself and what it takes to take on such a challenge in an untried boat, I'll keep doing it as long as I'm able but at 81 the finish line is getting closer.
Other tripwise for me the gold standard is undoubtedly a GURG (great unknown of the Rio Grande) trip on the Rio Grande. Doubt I'll ever make another but there's still hope for another trip or two on the Buffalo River in Arkansas.
Not hardly, the animals are converging on Swan Point the third week in June after completing the worlds' toughest canoe race, I've just observed and contributed to their madness.
Not to mention there is a much lower probability of meeting someone with a noisy outboard (SCAMP outboards, as we all know, are much quieter when in use) and a disregard for the effect of their wake on other craft.
Josh, It sounds like Upper and Lower Priest Lake would be of your liking (one of my favorite N. Idaho lakes). The upper lake is remote and limited to boats of shallow draft. You can kayak quite a ways up the stream that feeds the upper lake.
Lake Pend Oreille is another Great N. Idaho destination. Where the Clark Fork feeds into the lake there are some interesting and inviting places to kayak.
Both lakes are drawn down during the Winter months to make room for the snow melt. Both are now filling. Pend Oreille has come up enough that launching a small sailboat is not a problem. I'm told it takes a bit longer for Priest Lake to fill.
At the right tide, the wetlands between Juneau, Alaska and Douglas Island can be a magical getaway for after work or a weekend. I say the right tide and not necessarily the highest tide. It’s complicated.
The channel between the island and the mainland goes dry at low tide. It takes 10 feet of water to wet the channel. Boaters then add their draft and their safety margin to determine whether it’s safe to cross. Depending on the speed of your vessel, one can save two or three hours moving a boat from the downtown harbors to the harbor at Auk Bay. The tide here swings from about a -4 to approximately a +22. I’ve taken keel boats across the bar at a 16.2 tide with 18 inches under the shoe.
So when the water is 12 to 14 feet, kayaks and small boats can cross knowing they can own the channel with little concern about wakes or collisions. If you work it just right you can wash in with the current to the summit and meet the dropping tide for the exit. It’s a great way to introduce somebody to a new small vessel experience.
Fully agree that Gastineau Channel is an enchanting place, including the mouth of the Mendenhall River. We've stayed several nights aground in the channel over the years, often arousing the concerns of residents along the Douglas shore... it's a satisfying way to be in the wild heart of a large city (at least by SE Alaskan standards).
Once Nereid is officially launched, we intend to do the tourist thing, visiting as many different bodies of water as we can. We already have plans to visit the Delaware, the Hudson for several events, Narraganset Bay, several large lakes, Maine and several other places. As we are on our own time, there is no telling how long this agenda will take.
As a young man touring on a bicycle, I was able to travel light. We'd make camp and stand back to look, and it appeared that no one was there. A bag of rice for a pillow and a sleeping pad and Primus stove and water bottle, and we were set. Vespa camping allowed for more distance covered, but still didn't require much equipment, and Scamping is still an adventure. The speed is slower, but the need to keep an eye on the weather and tend to the boat is where the adventure is. I've decided that there's a common thread for me among these modes of travel: I like to know roughly where I am, but I don't really plan where I'm going. In the Scamp, I have almost total freedom to anchor wherever I want (that's safe), so my adventure basically plans itself. I can go where the wind sends me and see what comes up.
A few years ago, I was ghosting through some islands in the South Salish sea at extreme low tide, and I was treated to a big convention of bald eagles waddling around on the exposed beaches. There were probably eighty or ninety very big birds over a distance of half a mile, and their behavior did not match the elegant "National Bird" image. In the air, these birds inspire oohs and aahs, but on the beach, their grace disappears. I was reminded of a bunch of squabbling Thanksgiving turkeys lumbering and waddling back and forth and stealing from their neighbors and other birds. I was able, boards up and sail just drawing, to coast through this bird party at close range, and they completely ignored me while I had a National Geographic experience. These experiences are what keep us coming back to gather with the whales and otters and seals and birds, and a small boat with a sail is our magic carpet.
Well said, Mike.
Upcoming I've planned one more TX200 trip, slightly modified this time.
I've always been aggravated that the TX200 is scheduled the second weekend in June, the same weekend that the Texas Water Safari starts. There are quite good reasons for same, schools are out and the hurricane season hasn't started yet, but it's still an aggravation.
This year I plan to start from the TX200 finish at Magnolia Beach a day early on Sunday and sail down to Seadrift to see the early water safari canoes arrive at Swan Point. From there I'll try to meet up with the TX 200 fleet at Paul's Mott. Timing for all this is amorphous at best, so many variables; weather, wind, river conditions on two rivers, it will be what it will be.
I miss the Safari, two years ago I went down to follow the race when I didn't get QB ready for the TX 200 but bailed out early with phone problems part way through the race. I've known a number of the competitors for a very long time now and we are all starting to age out, some of their grandchildren are now competitive i think.
I've learned a lot from the TX200 both about myself and what it takes to take on such a challenge in an untried boat, I'll keep doing it as long as I'm able but at 81 the finish line is getting closer.
Other tripwise for me the gold standard is undoubtedly a GURG (great unknown of the Rio Grande) trip on the Rio Grande. Doubt I'll ever make another but there's still hope for another trip or two on the Buffalo River in Arkansas.
You're an animal, Skip!
Not hardly, the animals are converging on Swan Point the third week in June after completing the worlds' toughest canoe race, I've just observed and contributed to their madness.
Not to mention there is a much lower probability of meeting someone with a noisy outboard (SCAMP outboards, as we all know, are much quieter when in use) and a disregard for the effect of their wake on other craft.
Josh, It sounds like Upper and Lower Priest Lake would be of your liking (one of my favorite N. Idaho lakes). The upper lake is remote and limited to boats of shallow draft. You can kayak quite a ways up the stream that feeds the upper lake.
Lake Pend Oreille is another Great N. Idaho destination. Where the Clark Fork feeds into the lake there are some interesting and inviting places to kayak.
Both lakes are drawn down during the Winter months to make room for the snow melt. Both are now filling. Pend Oreille has come up enough that launching a small sailboat is not a problem. I'm told it takes a bit longer for Priest Lake to fill.
Happy Sailing,
Randy Graves
Montgomery 17
Coeur d'Alene, ID
Hey Randy, yes, all spots on my radar for sure. I've noted that Clark Fork area. Thanks!
At the right tide, the wetlands between Juneau, Alaska and Douglas Island can be a magical getaway for after work or a weekend. I say the right tide and not necessarily the highest tide. It’s complicated.
The channel between the island and the mainland goes dry at low tide. It takes 10 feet of water to wet the channel. Boaters then add their draft and their safety margin to determine whether it’s safe to cross. Depending on the speed of your vessel, one can save two or three hours moving a boat from the downtown harbors to the harbor at Auk Bay. The tide here swings from about a -4 to approximately a +22. I’ve taken keel boats across the bar at a 16.2 tide with 18 inches under the shoe.
So when the water is 12 to 14 feet, kayaks and small boats can cross knowing they can own the channel with little concern about wakes or collisions. If you work it just right you can wash in with the current to the summit and meet the dropping tide for the exit. It’s a great way to introduce somebody to a new small vessel experience.
Fully agree that Gastineau Channel is an enchanting place, including the mouth of the Mendenhall River. We've stayed several nights aground in the channel over the years, often arousing the concerns of residents along the Douglas shore... it's a satisfying way to be in the wild heart of a large city (at least by SE Alaskan standards).
Once Nereid is officially launched, we intend to do the tourist thing, visiting as many different bodies of water as we can. We already have plans to visit the Delaware, the Hudson for several events, Narraganset Bay, several large lakes, Maine and several other places. As we are on our own time, there is no telling how long this agenda will take.