Let's Go Fly a Kite

.....Yes, a real big one. And man is it fun.

Nick and I started paragliding this past spring with a school in eastern Washington. We started our training with a two week immersion course at Aerial Paragliding, a world class training facility and flight park. The school provides an ideal setting for beginning pilots with top notch instructors, gentle terrain and on site accommodations at a very reasonable price. Our hats are off to Denise, Doug, Stefan, and Dave! We passed our first two weeks completing the required ground school and logging as many flights as possible off of the small training hills.

One of the many amenities of the school is the shuttling of students from the landing zone back up to the launch, providing a fast turn around time between flights.

Most of the flying is done in the morning and evening, when conditions are generally settled. The instructors split themselves between the launch and the landing and use radios to communicate with the students in the air. The short flights off the training hills mean that most of the student's time is spent launching and landing, using repetition to reinforce two of the most fundamental skills for a beginning pilot.

After two weeks, Nick and I were just shy of earning our Novice Paragliding Certification, or P2. It only took a few more weekends to demonstrate the required skills and accurately discuss the fundamentals of the sport with our instructors. And then.....

We were on our own!

At some point, we had to leave the comfort of the flight school to get out and fly on our own. Fortunately, having learned at "The Ranch" plugged us into a whole community of local pilots who were more than willing to serve as mentors and site guides. Thanks to the Northenders of Boundary Bay: Sid, Delvin, Guy, Rita, Jan, Murdoch, Roger, Chad, TJ, Bob, Kirk, Doug, and Jim for looking after us and introducing us to the great flying to be had around Bellingham. These folks have treated us like family from the very beginning. We tried to carry over the caution of our instructors and scrutinized all of the aspects of a flight. We would often stand on launch for half and hour or more studying the wind conditions and discussing our ideas about what was happening in the sky. If we decided we were happy with the wind speed and direction, then it was time to fly.

The launch process begins with the assessment. Then we unpack our gear and lay out the fabric of our gliders onto the launch pad and go through our pre-flight check. When all of the gear is in place, we stand in position and wait for the wind to fall into the right orientation and speed, which is usually straight onto launch and between 3-7 mph. With a nice cycle, we pull on the lines attached to the leading edge of our glider to inflate it with air, transforming the limp pile of fabric into a rigid airfoil. Thanks to Jan for the next three photos.

Once the glider is squarely overhead, a few strong steps forward and we're in the air.

Happy Trails!

Mount Rainier

The arrival of summer typically brings change to the peacenick household, and this summer I find myself working on a vegetation survey crew at Mt. Rainier National Park. This particular position is one that I have applied for in numerous years past, so when the offer finally came- I decided I better give it a try.

Some benefits of this position include spending ample time outside and being active, working alongside my other great crew members, honing in my plant ID skills and learning all of the scientific names, getting paid to go backpacking and getting to sleep outside most nights of the week.

So what sort of vegetation survey you may wonder. No, it doesn't have anything to do with vegetables (a common confusion when I misleadingly refer to my job as a "veg survey". Instead, my crew members and I spend our days in the field navigating to certain areas of the park and describing the plant communities that we find at that particular location. Our sampling sites are selected from high resolution aerial photos to be representative of the immediately surrounding areas. Our job this summer is to visit as many sites as possible to create a statistically sound correlation the aerial photos and the plant communities on the ground. Then computer software can be used to make an educated guess of the plant communities found in all of the other areas throughout the park.

Now, some pretty photos....

Clark Island to Bellingham!!

9/22/07

Day 89

10 nautical miles

This is it, the bittersweet last day!! Just a regular morning today: alarm goes off at 6:30am, pack the tent, cook breakfast, sip coffee, take down the tarp, jump into the drysuits, carry the gear down the beach, carry the boats down the beach, pack the boats, a quick stretch, and we’re paddling. Mostly sunny with a little traffic in the channel over to Lummi Island. A slow moving tanker with two tugs passes by just as we’re shoving off the beach. We look both ways, smile at each other and dig in to cross our last shipping lane at slack and in good time. It would be a shame to get run over this close to home.

Rounding the north end of Lummi we enter Hale Passage as the flood tide is beginning to push north. Combined with a headwind funneling through the pass we’re slowed to a crawl. It looks like we’ll have to pull hard all the way home, no coasting today.

A flooding tide means that we’re able to get over the “portage” on the north end of Portage Island by paddling through the shallows and this puts us into the water of Bellingham Bay. Native gillnetters are out and about hauling nets and motoring around.

We take a break on Portage, break out the binocs and survey the Bay. Bellingham Bay is notorious for rough, steep waves when the wind is southerly. Today is no exception and Becky and I carefully evaluate the whitecaps speckling the last 4 miles of our expedition. We scan the shore of our home town too, taking in the well-known landmarks: Sehome Hill, the Fairhaven Drydock, the GP site, kites flying at Zuanich Park, clusters of masts in the Squalicum Marina, planes flying overhead making a bee-line for the airport on the bluffs that line the NE edge of the bay. It is all at once familiar and foreign.

In just a few short days Becky and I will be out of our boats and tucked into an outbound flight from that very airport, headed south to our wintery summer in Antarctica. It is nothing short of surreal to contemplate paddling these final 4 miles out of 1300 into that town in the distance where our friends are waiting. We linger on Portage Island, soaking up our last bits of solitary simplicity and savoring the anticipation of reconnecting with friends and family after a three month absence. Only four more miles!

Our break is rewarded with diminishing winds. When we finally push off Portage and aim for Fairhaven the whitecaps have all but disappeared. We’re able to shoot straight across the bay with only the occasional powerboat to worry about. Ever so slowly the landmarks grow to full size and the waterfront comes into sharp view.

Near the Taylor Street dock we meet the city shoreline and turn to follow the pedestrian walkway towards Boulevard Park. The day has turned sunny and folks are out in force enjoying the last bits of sun before the rains of winter set in.

Becky and I paddle around the dock at the north end of the park and there on the beach are our friends Mary Marie, Emmelina, and Lisiana!! When we catch sight of each other everyone begins cheering and hollering. Our boats glide the last few feet and connect with the beach side-by-side. We’re home. Hugs all around, excited chatter, treats from the picnic basket, questions bouncing back and forth, and more hugs. Becky and I embrace and string out our prayer flags for the obligatory “summit” photo. We look and feel like deer in the headlights! That evening Mary Marie hosts a party in our honor and we’re showered with more congratulations. Lisiana even created a 15’ welcome home banner for us! It is a surreal ending to an unforgettable experience that has expanded our horizons and strengthened our partnership.

Special thanks to Mary Marie and Emmelina for dragging our 50lb resupply boxes to the post office every couple weeks this summer. We would have starved without you!!!

Thank you also to our friends and family, both at home and up and down the Inside Passage, for encouragement, inspiration, and love. This blog is for all of you!

We hope you’ve enjoyed following the adventure!!

More reflections to come…

Prevost Island to Patos Island

9/20/07

Day 87

21 nautical miles

Today was one of our longest days in miles and one of our best in terms of interesting paddling. We woke early at 4am and managed to get paddling by 6am. Paddling in the dark was great, calm water and navigational lights flashing everywhere. The ferry landing on Mayne Island looked like a highway on-ramp all lit up and flashing in the distance. Lots of ferry traffic in and out of Active Pass at dawn. Becky tuned in the Vessel Traffic Service on her VHF radio to monitor the ships and hail them if we needed. There is nothing like sharing a small channel with four BC Ferries to make you feel very small, slow, and vulnerable. Now we know what a turtle feels like trying to cross a highway. Thankfully, the visibility was okay.

We continue east along the north shore of Pender Island into a light headwind with overcast skies and light drizzle. At Razor Point we turn north and cross over to Saturna Island aiming for the vineyards snaking up the hill. Yes, vineyards. Dry microclimate perhaps?

During the crossing Becky hollers out, “ORCAS ISLAND!!!” and we spot Mount Constitution looming above Waldron Island in the distance. Home waters are in sight. These are the first familiar landmarks we’ve seen in the 94 days since we left Bellingham! Looks like we just might make it home in time for our flight south to Antarctica on the 27th.

Much of Saturna’s south shore is newly protected as part of the Gulf Island National Park and it is easy to see why. The coast features spectacular sandstone erosion cliffs, terraces, madronas, feral mountain goats, and, remarkably for the Gulf Islands, no houses. The exception to this is East Point, the island’s eastern most finger, a cliffy promontory topped by simple cabins as well as palaces straight out of “Architectural Digest.” Paddling at the base of the cliffs we fight the current and dodge giant reflection waves caused by a freighter headed into Boundary Pass.

The East Point Light marks the last bit of Canadian soil before the border. Becky and I look both ways for freighter traffic, set the GPS, and paddle out into a bit of an ebb current pushing south through Boundary Pass. We’re in a major shipping lane now and waste no time crossing to Patos Island and the good ‘ol USA. Skies are clearing, seas calm, winds light, and, surprisingly, we encounter no shipping traffic in the pass. Yippee!

We pull onto the beach looking hopefully for our friend Glenn from Parkdale, OR. Unfortunately, he’s nowhere to be found, but we do encounter four paddlers from the Seattle area. Dianne and Jerry are paddling Greenland style skeg boats while Jim and Karen are in a double. Becky and I get an invitation to happy hour and dinner and we all share stories of the Inside Passage around the campfire that evening. All evening long we watch a constant stream of freighters and tankers parade through Boundary Pass. We’re disappointed to have missed Glenn, but sharing a sunset and stories with some fellow Washington kayakers is about the best welcome home we could hope for. For the first time in three months we enjoy a sunset reflected off our home waters, the San Juan Islands.

Mowgli Island to Prevost Island

9/19/07

Day 86

12 nautical miles

We had a special morning today on Mowgli Island. Our friend, Delphine, used to own the island and built a log cabin there in the 60s. We got permission to stop by and have a look around the place. The new owner has built a palatial island home, but Delphine’s modest one-room cabin still stands and continues to be lovingly maintained as a guest house.

The island is small, “Just a rock” is how Delphine describes it, but a microcosm of the Gulf Island ecosystem: Salal, Gerry Oak, Douglas Fir, Red Cedar, and all sorts of ferns, mosses and grasses.

We won’t be getting to sleep early tonight since there is a giant commercial group sharing our campsite. It is a school group composed of teenagers, teachers, and guides from “Island Escapes”. Shortly after Becky and I set camp their armada paddled in with 30, count ‘em, 30 kayaks, 40 people and an outboard powered support boat. We’re camping tonight in James Bay, which is part of the Gulf Islands National Park. I’m not familiar with National Park regulations in Canada, but being a ranger for the US Park Service myself, I’m appalled that a commercial group of this size would be allowed to operate in a National Park. Twelve or even fifteen people I could understand, but there is no way to justify a group of 40 as anything other than the gross exploitation of wilderness for profit. Besides, smaller groups are easier to manage, afford better opportunities to view wildlife and learn skills, and allow for better client care. Thankfully, the camping area is in an old apple orchard (good apples too!) and there is plenty of space. However, there is no minimizing the impact of a group that size, particularly when they insist on playing games of tag after dark. Even the adults are shouting and carrying on into the night. Ahh, our last night in Canada.

Since this is the first campsite that Becky and I have shared in 86 days of paddling we just shake our heads, laugh, and head out for a sunset hike. The late night affords us both a chance to catch up in our journals and make good use of the earplugs we’ve been carrying.

Okay, I’m done ranting…

Slack in Boundary Pass is around 2pm tomorrow and 17 nautical miles distant, so the alarm is set for 4am. Tomorrow we paddle in the pre-dawn dark!