We work hard on our paddling, rescue and leadership skills. But at home, we don’t get many chances to work on our navigation; handrailing pretty much suffices along the Chicago shoreline. So we relish opportunities to practice navigation in places where it’s necessary. And our recent trip on the Georgian Bay, with its many islands and complex coastline, provided just that. We began by getting strip charts of the area (available at White Squall and The Nautical Mind). These nautical charts, published by the Canadian Hydrographic Service, have a 1:20,000 scale, which provided plenty of detail but required us to move from section to section quite frequently. We complemented them with a 1:50,000 topographical map of the French River Provincial Park and an Adventure Map of Philip Edward Island, which covered most of the route and gave a helpful overview along with land features. During our first two days, we tried navigating by eye with mixed success. On the water, it’s hard to distinguish islands from peninsulas and even from each other. The bird’s-eye view of the chart doesn’t correspond to the paddler’s-eye view three feet above the water, and it’s easy to make mistakes. Even though we tried to keep track of our exact location as we passed what seemed like distinct landmarks, we made one error that caused us to go several miles out of our way. (We stubbornly refused to rely on our GPS, though we did consult it from time to time to verify our position.) On the third day, we began plotting our route before getting on the water, writing down the headings for each leg and the time we expected it to take. The difference was remarkable. Even though we couldn’t see our destinations, we arrived at them with little trouble. “Navigation works!” we exclaimed. In truth, navigation is fun. We loved working with charts, compasses and watches in Wales, adjusting for current and wind as we set our course for various destinations. There was no current in the Georgian Bay, but the plethora of little islands more than made up for that lack of challenge, and made us delight in our accomplishment when we reached each point. Without these tools and the skills to use them, we certainly would have gotten lost again, and we wouldn’t have been able to take some of the complicated and rewarding routes we chose. Like every other paddling skill, navigation works best when you practice it. But the real payoff is when it enables you enjoy a...

Sharon’s Avocet LV has many wonderful qualities, but that list doesn’t typically include carrying capacity. So we were pleasantly surprised to discover how much it was able to hold on our recent six-day trip: Mountain Hardware Lightwedge 2 tent (in two dry bags) One dry bag of fresh produce One dry bag full of snacks One dry bag with six lunches First aid kit Boat repair kit Two one-quart water bottles Thermos Crazy Creek chair One dry bag with land clothes and toiletries One dry bag with paddling clothes Woody dutch oven Cutting board MSR water filter Six-piece pot set Trowel Miscellaneous day hatch contents (cag, notebook, paperback book, sunscreen, etc.) Between the Avocet LV and Alec’s Pilgrim Expedition, we were easily able to carry everything the two of us needed, including camera gear and a substantial quantity of fresh produce. Not bad for a little...

We’ve long intended to return to the Georgian Bay. The northern Georgian Bay especially intrigues us; it’s far less developed (i.e. full of cottages) than the rest of the bay, it’s dotted with tens of thousands of islands, and it’s simply stunning. So when we had a six-day gap in our summer schedule, we seized the opportunity to paddle from the Chikanishing River in Killarney Provincial Park to the tiny town of Britt with our good friend Trish. We left one car at Ice Cream on the Rocks, a paddler-friendly shop in Britt that provides parking for $10 per day, and drove up to the George Lake Campground, a couple of miles from the put-in, where we spent one night. Along the way, we stopped at the White Squall Paddling Centre in Nobel, where we were able to get additional information about everything from what wildlife to expect and the best places to camp, to the appropriate ways to store food and dispose of waste. We were also able to purchase a few essentials we had forgotten to pack from White Squall’s extensive inventory of paddling and camping gear. Did we mention that this area is stunning? We paddled past smooth, undulating rocks of various colors — pink, grey and black — decorated with lichen. Some had geode veins; others looked corrugated. We know that this area contains elements of both the Niagara Escarpment and the Canadian Shield, and that glaciers played a significant role in sculpting it to its present state, but we longed for a geologist to help us better understand the stories the rocks were telling about their past. It was easy to find places to set up camp each evening. Plenty of islands offered flat spots for pitching tents and cooking meals; a freestanding tent was definitely helpful on this trip because staking tents wasn’t an option. However, it was important to avoid landing or camping on First Nation land, and a permit was required for camping in the French River Provincial Park. Both are well marked on maps and charts, and backcountry camping permits are available at park facilities. We saw very few boats during the first several days; a few tents peeked out from behind trees as we passed by, but we were largely alone. We picked wild blueberries and raspberries on some of the islands; watched cranes, herons, eagles and gulls; and saw some spectacular night skies. We had been warned about one section of the trip: the paddle around Point Grondine. Shallow water, shoals and the headland combine to create big waves and boomers when the wind blows. And indeed, the first time we set out to round the point, we were impressed by how...

It’s easy to appreciate the places we go as paddlers. They’re beautiful and often have interesting histories, and our kayaks and canoes give us the ability to get up close for a uniquely intimate perspective. But we enjoy them and learn far more about them through the people we meet. For example, Lisa (above right) came out to meet us when we landed on the Trout Bay beach on Grand Island. We already knew quite a bit about the island — how millennia of Native Americans lived there, followed by about a hundred years of settlers and loggers who chopped down all the trees and essentially abandoned it; how the Forest Service purchased it from the Cleveland Cliffs Iron Company in 1990, grandfathering in two tracts of private land and a few cottages on federal land that could only be passed down within the families who owned them.  And we already knew from paddling around the perimeter that this was a stunningly beautiful place, and were grateful for the views our kayaks afforded us. But through Lisa, we learned about life on the island and what it’s like to spend extended time in a place where most people come and go after a few hours or a few days, and experience only a small fraction of the network of trails. Lisa has watched it as the seasons change and the years and decades go by, and has a long view of the island, its inhabitants and Lake Superior. We met Blanche when we reached a dead end while looking for a campground in a forested area along the northern shores of Lake Michigan. She grew up near Gould City, but moved to Flint to work for General Motors and lived there for 25 years. When she retired, she moved back to the UP, where she can be outdoors all day and doesn’t need to lock her doors at night. She knows all the plants and bird, trails and creeks in the area. Blanche led us down a gravely road to one of the free campgrounds hidden in the forest and warned us against wandering further down the meandering and rutted paths, lest we get lost. When we return, she promised to take us further into her beloved local wilderness. We have a special place in our hearts for Dick Sterk, whom we met at the Museum of Ojibwa Culture in St. Ignace. He was among the Native American elders working with some museum employees to replace the deteriorating Long House with a new one build according to traditional methods. Dick, 80, invited us to visit him at his cottage in the Les Cheneaux Islands and paddle around some of the 36 islands that comprise this archipelago in the Straits of Mackinac....

We love coaching, and we spend considerable time doing it. But after four days at the Great Lakes Sea Kayak Symposium, it was time for something completely different. We had a trailer full of boats and didn’t have to be anywhere for a few days, so we spent a day on the Sturgeon River with our friends Scott Fairty and Trey Rouss of The Power of Water. We got some helpful information about water levels and hazards from Sturgeon River Paddlesports owner Jamie Jacklitch, ran a car shuttle, and then set out in one tandem canoe, one solo canoe and one inflatable SUP. We made a point of switching craft and, of course, playing on every feature.   Taking time to paddle and play, particularly in crafts that are less familiar, is both fun and productive. And doing so with friends who provide challenges and insights along the way makes us better paddlers. Thanks to Scott Fairty and Trey Rouss for the...

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We just completed four immersive days (and nights) at the 30th annual Great Lakes Sea Kayak Symposium — the oldest kayak symposium in the country, and one with an impressive pedigree. This is the symposium begun by Stan Chladek, who introduced British sea kayaks to the United States and helped jump-start BCU programming and the sport of sea kayaking in North America. We were fortunate to be asked to teach a “one coach” program this year, allowing us to work with the same 10 students (and one coach mentee) for three and a half days. Students who choose this track are generally seeking a consistent, sequential program delivered over the course of the symposium, as opposed to exposure to numerous coaches offering specific skills sessions. For us, it’s an honor to have that trust. They’ve opted not to take a raft of attractive three-hour courses (offered by a raft of attractive coaches) in order to work with us. The one-coach track allows us to develop a progression for a group of students. This is especially interesting to us right now because we’re working toward our BCU UKCC Level 2 Certificate in Coaching Paddlesport, which is defined by the ability to “safely deliver a series of pre-planned Paddlesport activities to a variety of different participants” as well as to develop and evaluate those participants’ performance, and review our own coaching sessions. It was a great incubator for a lot of the coaching practices we’ve been working on, from diverse coaching strategies to engaging and effective activities. We received feedback in several forms: our students’ level of engagement, their improvement, and their comments to us throughout the course and afterwards. Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore offered an extra opportunity to get feedback, in the form of how well our students were able to use their skills on a journey in a sometimes challenging environment. And a final video analysis session validated their improvement and gave them additional tools for working on their own. In the end, the one-coach track was progressive not only for our students, but for us. Coaching itself is a progression. Good coaches are always seeking ways to improve and to assess their effectiveness. We really appreciate opportunities to practice and progress as coaches, and we’re grateful to the organizers of the symposium and to all of our students for allowing us to continue on that...