Until this year, we’ve spent most of our extracurricular (non-teaching) paddling time working on our skills and enjoying the camaraderie of Chicago-area paddlers. But thanks to the symposia we’ve been attending, we’ve also made connections across the country, and we’ve begun seeking out our paddling partners when we travel.On this trip, we were able to hook up with Frits Kwant (see Tuesday’s post) as well as two other WMCKA paddlers we’ve long wished to spend more time with: Keith Wikle and Paul Fishback.Our plan was to meet at 5 p.m. near the channel that connects White Lake to “the big lake” (Lake Michigan). But a conspiracy of weather and traffic kept us about 5 miles north in Frits’ house and off the water until about 6:30 p.m. The NOAA weather radar revealed a major storm cell over Green Bay, Wisconsin, which we estimated would allow us time for at least a short paddle. We agreed that we would not paddle all the way down the coast to White Lake, and that it would be easy to pull off if the weather worsened and wait it out. Setting off from the beach, wondering about that approaching storm system… So much for plans. As soon as we got on the water, Keith set a brisk pace and before we knew it, we were more than half way to our destination. The storm didn’t look too close, and since we were within easy reach of White Lake, we decided to continue. Besides, we were getting hungry. Frits and Paul paddle into the wind. Our flexible float plan hinged on the speed with which a storm moved in from Green Bay. Keith tries to hide his carbon fiber snow shovel. Where’s your Greenland stick, Keith? We reached the take-out a little after 8 and finished the car shuttle. By the time we were nearly done loading our boats, it was raining and thundering, with lightning illuminating the sky.We devoured our dinner and were among the last to leave the inn that night, setting out like so many wanderers to our separate destinations for the night. Photo op out on the lake. We didn’t quite get to the Old Channel Inn by 9 p.m. for dinner, but when we arrived, Clarice was waiting and the storm was only too happy to let loose. Thanks for paddling with us Frits, Paul and Keith! We look forward to paddling with you and our other wonderful WMCKA friends in the coming months and...

Most of our Lake Michigan paddling takes place on the western shore of this Great Lake. It’s lovely to be on the eastern shore, which tends to have steeper beaches and therefore more breaking waves during the summer. (We get our fair share of those in the fall.) Approaching the lighthouse from the side it was designed to be seen from. Today we paddled from Stony Creek up to the Little Sable Lighthouse. The shore is lined with summer cottages ranging from the sweet to the ostentatious. We battled a headwind all the way up, so we stopped for lunch on what appeared to be public land. It turned out to be private but not yet built upon, and the Florida resident who owns it motored over in his ATV to make sure we were OK. (It was pretty wavy.) Yes, we’re fine. In fact, we like the waves. Would you please dispose of the garbage we collected from the water? He kindly took away the garbage we had collected from the water. (We think there’s so much of it because of the July 4 weekend. What a way to celebrate your indepenence!)We returned just in time to catch headwinds all the way back, too. Here’s what we collected on the way back. We went fishing for trash and came back with quite a haul! Most of it is chip bags and candy wrappers. If fewer foods were sold in single-serving packages and people ate more whole foods and fewer convenience foods, perhaps there would be considerably less garbage in the...

Sharon, Frits and Alec on the Lake Michigan beach where Frits keeps his boats and paddles almost daily, weather permitting. We met Frits Kwant almost by accident at the West Michigan Coastal Kayakers Association symposium this year. We were, as usual, among the last to finish packing up and leave, and Frits was in no hurry because he lives only minutes away. When we mentioned that we would be visiting the area in early July, he graciously offered to reserve a campsite for us.So of course we had to paddle together.Frits has been paddling for 17 years. During that time, he has built four boats, numerous Greenland-style paddles, and a charming collection of maritime-themed plywood sculptures. Ten years ago, he retired from his job as a special education teacher in the Grand Rapids school system; a couple years ago, he and his wife, Clarice, remodeled their summer place near the lake into a year-round home, sold their house near the city, and became some of the few full-time residents of this glorious area.Frits does not suffer from nature-deficit disorder. If he isn’t on the lake, he’s running along the country roads or watching the humming birds that frequent the many feeders that line his porch. A spry 67-year-old with a twinkle in his eye, he’s open to adventure and has paddled some pretty challenging waters. He isn’t interested in certifications and other external validations of his commitment to kayaking. He’s simply a man who loves to paddle and has acquired the skills he needs to enjoy the sport safely.We set off from the beach near Frits and Clarice’s home and paddled north through choppy wind waves to Flower Creek, an almost hidden waterway that snakes past a few summer homes and then through marshland inhabited by muskrats, deer, turtles and innumerable birds. A few of the residents of Flower Creek. Moments later, they slipped into the water. The unusually high water levels allowed us to paddle for what seemed like miles, though it was difficult to say how far we actually went through the twist and turns. It was peaceful and quiet, in contrast to the crashing waves on Lake Michigan. Frits appreciates both equally: the gentle creek and the challenging waves, the intimate view of one little area and the expansiveness of the big lake. And all the while, he shared with us stories of this place and the people who live here.Kayakers always rely on local knowledge. It’s how we learn when and where to paddle. It’s how we avoid hazards and find out about the best a place has to offer, from surf waves to pie. Frits was our premier source of local knowledge this week....

A lone tent amid RVs. It’s very quiet, if not exactly rustic. (At last we have email access again….)We’re staying at Meinert County Park, near Montague, Michigan. We are the lone tent in a campground full of RVs, many of them parked here for the season.How camping has changed since we were kids! Back then, you spent a few dollars for a small spot without water, electricity or too many neighbors. These days, it’s not unusual to pay $25 and get all those hook-ups whether you want them or not. Back then, there were lots of tents and few of these enormous homes-on-wheels. These days, RVs are the norm, and many feature outside decorations and well as all the indoor amenities of home (showers, air conditioning, televisions).We think we understand the proliferation of RVs as car culture meets convenience. They’re cheaper than owning a cottage or staying in motels while traveling. They’re not really a substitute for tents as much as they are an opportunity to have your home and leave it, too.This is the quietest campground we’ve encountered because everybody seems to be indoors watching TV. We have the bathroom to ourselves because everybody else brought their own. It’s not all bad! Neatly docked in their slips. What would you name them? “Lovely lady?” “He’s not home?” This campground reminds us of a harbor in which we are the only kayaks and everyone else has docked their motorboats. But unlike boat owners, RV owners don’t seem to name their mobile homes. Imagine if they did. What would they choose? Perhaps they’d go for the corny names boat owners choose, such as “Betsy Sue” and “Dividends.” Or maybe they’d go the bumper sticker route with “My other home is a...

Today we taught a couple of Intro the Sea Kayaking classes for Geneva Kayak Center in Geneva, Illinois. Geneva Kayak is one of Chicago’s newest paddling centers, but owner Ryan Rushton quickly put it on the national map through a combination of a beautifully stocked shop, extensive calendar of lessons and trips, and an annual symposium, the Windy City Kayak Symposium.Not everybody loves teaching beginners, but we do. Why? Partly because it’s an opportunity to be an ambassador for an activity we love. We’re aware that a person’s first experience is hugely influential. We know plenty of people who had a bad first experience and decided never to sit in a kayak again, or who had a good first experience and were hooked for life. But also because they have a wonderfully steep learning curve. As an instructor, you can make a huge difference in a beginner’s skill in just a few hours. We’ve seen students begin a three-hour class wobbly and insecure, barely able to use a paddle, and end it capable of moving themselves where they want to go, with huge grins on their faces. That’s tremendously...

Off with the old; on with the new. Most of what you need to replace your dry suit’s neck gasket. The first couple of days after we return home are taken up by laundry, bills, weeding, returning calls and emails, and other mundane activities that expand like kudzu in our absence. There’s no time for the conventional r-and-r (rest and relaxation). But we have an r-and-r of our own: repair and reconnect.Sharon’s dry suit neck gasket gave out a month ago. We think it was a casualty of heavy use and sunscreen. (Even if you’re careful to apply sunscreen after your dry suit is on, you’ll get some on your gasket every time you get in our out of the suit.) So we cut if off (scary!) and followed Kokatat’s excellent directions for replacing it with a new one.What’s a dry suit and why do you wear one? It’s a waterproof garment with latex gaskets at the neck and wrists (and sometimes the ankles, unless it includes booties) worn when water temperatures are low enough that a paddler might risk hypothermia (at worst) or discomfort and unwillingness to take risks (at best). Ours are made of breathable GoreTex, so they’re surprising comfortable in warmer air conditions. We bought them when we realized that they could extend our paddling season. They’re by far the most expensive pieces of clothing we own and the most indispensable.The other “r” stands for reconnecting. We’ve caught up with our families and many of our friends. It must be time to go paddling again! Sharon helps Watermelon Man try on her dry...

Kayaking is a so-called “silent sport.” It shares this status with bicycling, sailing, running and other pursuits that don’t require a motor. As such, it’s kind to the environment as well as healthy for the body. All good so far. But in order to go kayaking, we pretty much have to drive our car. We can’t throw our boat on our shoulders and hop on the train–especially when we travel with four sea kayaks and four whitewater boats. (We could, perhaps, rig up a bike trailer for short distances, but not for trips like the one just took.) So the irony is this: All year long, we minimize our car usage. The kids walk or ride their bikes (or, in Jeremy’s case, unicycle) to school. I take the train to work. We even pull a bike trailer to the store to buy groceries whenever the weather and our schedules permit. Until the summer, we are far below the 10,000-mile average most car drivers put on each year. Then paddling season arrives and we negate all our virtuous car avoidance. At least we aren’t polluting the water after we...

Before nearly every kayak class, students (and sometimes instructors) ask the same thing: “What should I wear?” This isn’t a matter of fashion or appearances. It’s an issue of comfort and possibly safety. Matching our gear to the temperature of the water and, to some extent, the air is a skill developed through experience and often as a consequence of poor decisions we’ve lived to regret.The irony is this: When you’re paddling day after day, you don’t need much of a wardrobe at all. Every day you put on the clammy neoprene you wore the day before. Every evening, you change into the same pair of lightly worn clothes you wore the previous evening. And best of all, nobody you hang out with cares because they’re all wearing the same things over and over,...

Another riddle: What’s the first thing kayakers do upon returning home?Answer: De-stink their gear! This is a rather urgent matter. After 48 hours of stewing in their own juices, our neoprene wetsuits, spray skirts and booties are overripe. They need to be soaked and scrubbed with wetsuit shampoo, rinsed and dried. Our gear cared for us, keeping us comfortable on the water for two weeks. Now we care for it, cleaning it and putting it away for our next paddle. We’ve found that if we set aside time for this part of the process, what used to be a chore has become preparation for the next...

Whenever we come home from points east, we stop at our favorite produce market: Jansen’s, in Hobart, Indiana. The produce is fresh, the prices are low, and you can almost taste the amazing dishes the shopping-cart-pushing locals are planning to prepare. We usually find locally grown produce at Jansen’s, in contrast to Jewel and Dominick’s, which often sell only California peaches when Michigan ones are in...