Staying Alive on the Water

by Tim Dyer
(White Squall Paddling Centre)

I’ve been thinking a lot about rescues. Maybe it’s because every time I open a paddling magazine or view the list of topics for symposia, sea kayak rescue in all its guts and glory is dissected ad nauseum. To add to the nausea, I thought I would weigh in. Here are some thoughts about that most humbling piece of paddling – saving a life.

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The Forbidden Coast – Greenland

Jan de Grijs

It was Monday August 16 and Ursula, Patty and I were starting our long anticipated trip to Greenland. We were on a flight from Reykjavik to Kulusuk on the east coast of Greenland. As we approached Greenland all that was visible from the aircraft window were mountain tops above the cloud. The landing gear went down; we circled; the landing gear went up. Then an announcement came over the intercom, “This is the captain speaking. We are unable to land due to the fog, forcing us to return to Reykjavik.” We returned to Iceland and checked into the Reykjavik Youth Hostel.

gl1.jpg

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Minks and McCoys the Long Way

by Rob Muylwyk

mink1.jpgI was looking to my right, scanning the shore for a suitable campsite, ideally one with Brian camping on it, when I suddenly saw a huge, hardly submerged rock in my peripheral vision. It was right in front of me, about a paddle stroke and a half away! The adrenaline kicked in, I put the brakes on and started back-paddling like a “little engine that could.” This was successful; there would be no new gashes to be repaired in the off-season, but my imperfect back paddling technique left me with my bow pointing to where I had come from. I had been heading into the 25 knot westerly, so now I had to start to get my boat turned around again. The theory says that kayaks will weathercock, or turn into the wind, all by themselves, but in real life I had to power sweep to get back on course, while trying to evade the rocks that kept popping up all around me.

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Minks and McCoys the Long Way

by Rob Muylwyk

mink1.jpgI was looking to my right, scanning the shore for a suitable campsite, ideally one with Brian camping on it, when I suddenly saw a huge, hardly submerged rock in my peripheral vision. It was right in front of me, about a paddle stroke and a half away! The adrenaline kicked in, I put the brakes on and started back-paddling like a “little engine that could.” This was successful; there would be no new gashes to be repaired in the off-season, but my imperfect back paddling technique left me with my bow pointing to where I had come from. I had been heading into the 25 knot westerly, so now I had to start to get my boat turned around again. The theory says that kayaks will weathercock, or turn into the wind, all by themselves, but in real life I had to power sweep to get back on course, while trying to evade the rocks that kept popping up all around me.

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