Tuesday, May 04, 2010
Un-Stalled!
Well, it was easy to get un-stalled, since last night's class was inside, on a heated pool. Pool Rescue night!
I, naturally, was first to arrive. I drove through the wind and rain, to the university and parked in the big parkade. 7 bucks! Sheesh!
I had sort of an idea where I was going. The online map was pretty clear, but it also didn't have any of the myriad of construction sites marked on it. I found myself walking across gravel and past barriers, around temporary fences. The front door to the Aquatic Centre was reachable through a narrow path between the wall of one of the gyms, and the fencing. Evidence of lots of digging.
There was an information desk, where I asked where I needed to go. Then through the locker room where I stopped to strip down to swimming trunks and stuff my clothes into my backback. I walked out onto the pool deck, where a girl in a short lifeguard chair directed me to the corner where a kayak and associated paraphernalia waited.
As usual, I was first. I waited, and eventually eight more people showed up, virtually all at once. They seemed to know each other, and also were couples. I was the odd guy.
The instructor arrived and handed out release forms. After those were all signed, he walked us all the parts of a kayak. Then he demonstrated the steps to take to perform a self rescue, flopping around rather comically on the pool deck.
He lead us around the scuba class that had claimed the deep end, to a pile of personal flotation devices (PFDs), spray skirts, paddle floats and of course, kayaks. We chose the most fashionable bits, then carried the ten needed kayaks to the shallow end and put them on the ledge just under the water.
I dressed up, as did everyone else. I tried to get the spray skirt up high enough, and tight enough to stay put, and then got the PFD on and zipped. I pulled all the straps tight, and settled into a kayak. I chose one that had a loose rudder peddle, that slid around in the cockpit under my legs.
We all kind of floated out into the middle of the pool, and the instructor leaned over, and went under as his kayak capsized. And then he walked through the steps of the self rescue again, making it look ridiculously easy. Oh, to be young again.
I wondered at the needed upper body strength, and decided I had enough to pull it off. The couples paired off and spread out. I watched a few roll into the water and come up beside their capsized kayaks. And then I took a deep breath and leaned to the right.
The damn paddle was in the way, but I grabbed the side of the cockpit and began to run my hands along the edge of the spray skirt, fondling my way to the oh-shit handle. I found it flopping in the water, feeling a naked edge of the plastic cockpit. I found that I never had to pull that handle, as it always popped off on its own once I was upside down.
I came up against the kayak, reached behind my head to push it out of the way, only slightly panicky. Once my face cleared the surface I snorted and a nose full of water threatened to invade my lungs. Furious hacking and coughing ensued.
Once I was able to breath again, I heaved the kayak upright, and threaded my arm under a bungee cord. I pulled the paddle float from another bungee and managed to stuff the end of the paddle into it, and clip the short strap to keep it from slipping off.
OK, I should confess. We were in the shallow end, and for my first self rescue, I was standing in chest deep water, concentrating on getting through all the steps.
Once the paddle float was secured, I stuffed the other end under the bungees as we were shown. And then it was simply a matter of gripping the paddle and the edge of the cockpit, jumping up and laying across the kayak. It was about this point that it struck me that I might not always get to do this in five feet of water.
Anyway, I slipped my legged into the cockpit, and gingerly turned around, so that I could sit upright. Another realization at this point was that that turning around should happen toward the side where the paddle. I had turned the other way, and the paddle float slapped the water several times until I got stable.
I had narrowly missed displaying what the instructor charmingly called the red flag of death, where the kayak rolled away from the paddle and upside down again. As I settled into the seat and gingerly pulled the spray skirt out from under myself, rocking precariously while doing so, I noticed a couple of those red flags, as the paddle floats arced over a capsizing kayak.
Sitting for a minute to catch my breath, I then leaned the left this time, to ensure I could be ambidextrous in self rescues.
Then it was time to try an assisted rescue. The instructor had a volunteer help him out in showing the steps of righting the kayak, and bracing it so the other person can climb in. And then we tried it ourselves.
Of course, being the odd guy, I got to do it with the instructor, enduring the catcalls on my incompetence at trying to get close to his capsized kayak. I finally got to the bow of his upsidedown kayak, and told him to push down on the other end. The bow popped up surprisingly high, and I was easily able to pull it across my kayak.
When the cockpit was in my lap, essentially, I heaved the kayak upright and pushed it back in the water. More awkward maneuvering as I tried to get along side it, bow to stern, as required. I was a little apprehensive about bracing it, worried about inadequate upper body strength, but it was surprisingly easy to lean across his kayak and brace, while he heaved himself up and into the cockpit.
Then it was my turn. I took a deep breath and leaned again. I don't think my sinuses will ever acclimate to chlorinated pool water. I came up sputtering as usual, and then went through the steps.
After the first self rescue, I made a conscious effort not to use the floor of the pool, using only kicking and pulling to propel myself up on top of the kayak. At first it wasn't too bad, though I had to fight a tendency for my feet to come up in front of me so I would be floating on my back.
The assisted rescue went very smoothly; again I had to be aware of which way to turn as I got upright.
After that, I continued to flop over left and right, and practice self rescues, while the instructor worked with the couples. Flop hesitantly, I might add. I'm not keen to be under water, under a kayak. My nose fills with water and stings my eyes. And I soon developed a sinus headache. But I kept flopping over and repeating the steps.
At one point we got to raft up. That's when we all get side by side and hold on to each other's kayak, while the instructor explained why we would want to do that. We're much more stable holding on to each other like that, so can ride out some rough swells. And apparently, if we're all in one group like that, the orcas will come closer as they only have one big obstacle to avoid, instead of a bunch of little ones. Something to keep in mind if I manage to get on one of the trips to the west coast that they organize throughout the summer.
The self rescues started to become harder and harder to do. Adequate upper body strength I had for one or two, but a dozen was too taxing. We were eventually chased out of the pool by another group, and so gathered up the equipment to pile it in a soggy pile, and lean the kayaks against the wall inverted.
The instructor went through a few more things, and then we retired to the locker rooms to dress and head home through the wind and rain and snow.
L n K
I, naturally, was first to arrive. I drove through the wind and rain, to the university and parked in the big parkade. 7 bucks! Sheesh!
I had sort of an idea where I was going. The online map was pretty clear, but it also didn't have any of the myriad of construction sites marked on it. I found myself walking across gravel and past barriers, around temporary fences. The front door to the Aquatic Centre was reachable through a narrow path between the wall of one of the gyms, and the fencing. Evidence of lots of digging.
There was an information desk, where I asked where I needed to go. Then through the locker room where I stopped to strip down to swimming trunks and stuff my clothes into my backback. I walked out onto the pool deck, where a girl in a short lifeguard chair directed me to the corner where a kayak and associated paraphernalia waited.
As usual, I was first. I waited, and eventually eight more people showed up, virtually all at once. They seemed to know each other, and also were couples. I was the odd guy.
The instructor arrived and handed out release forms. After those were all signed, he walked us all the parts of a kayak. Then he demonstrated the steps to take to perform a self rescue, flopping around rather comically on the pool deck.
He lead us around the scuba class that had claimed the deep end, to a pile of personal flotation devices (PFDs), spray skirts, paddle floats and of course, kayaks. We chose the most fashionable bits, then carried the ten needed kayaks to the shallow end and put them on the ledge just under the water.
I dressed up, as did everyone else. I tried to get the spray skirt up high enough, and tight enough to stay put, and then got the PFD on and zipped. I pulled all the straps tight, and settled into a kayak. I chose one that had a loose rudder peddle, that slid around in the cockpit under my legs.
We all kind of floated out into the middle of the pool, and the instructor leaned over, and went under as his kayak capsized. And then he walked through the steps of the self rescue again, making it look ridiculously easy. Oh, to be young again.
I wondered at the needed upper body strength, and decided I had enough to pull it off. The couples paired off and spread out. I watched a few roll into the water and come up beside their capsized kayaks. And then I took a deep breath and leaned to the right.
The damn paddle was in the way, but I grabbed the side of the cockpit and began to run my hands along the edge of the spray skirt, fondling my way to the oh-shit handle. I found it flopping in the water, feeling a naked edge of the plastic cockpit. I found that I never had to pull that handle, as it always popped off on its own once I was upside down.
I came up against the kayak, reached behind my head to push it out of the way, only slightly panicky. Once my face cleared the surface I snorted and a nose full of water threatened to invade my lungs. Furious hacking and coughing ensued.
Once I was able to breath again, I heaved the kayak upright, and threaded my arm under a bungee cord. I pulled the paddle float from another bungee and managed to stuff the end of the paddle into it, and clip the short strap to keep it from slipping off.
OK, I should confess. We were in the shallow end, and for my first self rescue, I was standing in chest deep water, concentrating on getting through all the steps.
Once the paddle float was secured, I stuffed the other end under the bungees as we were shown. And then it was simply a matter of gripping the paddle and the edge of the cockpit, jumping up and laying across the kayak. It was about this point that it struck me that I might not always get to do this in five feet of water.
Anyway, I slipped my legged into the cockpit, and gingerly turned around, so that I could sit upright. Another realization at this point was that that turning around should happen toward the side where the paddle. I had turned the other way, and the paddle float slapped the water several times until I got stable.
I had narrowly missed displaying what the instructor charmingly called the red flag of death, where the kayak rolled away from the paddle and upside down again. As I settled into the seat and gingerly pulled the spray skirt out from under myself, rocking precariously while doing so, I noticed a couple of those red flags, as the paddle floats arced over a capsizing kayak.
Sitting for a minute to catch my breath, I then leaned the left this time, to ensure I could be ambidextrous in self rescues.
Then it was time to try an assisted rescue. The instructor had a volunteer help him out in showing the steps of righting the kayak, and bracing it so the other person can climb in. And then we tried it ourselves.
Of course, being the odd guy, I got to do it with the instructor, enduring the catcalls on my incompetence at trying to get close to his capsized kayak. I finally got to the bow of his upsidedown kayak, and told him to push down on the other end. The bow popped up surprisingly high, and I was easily able to pull it across my kayak.
When the cockpit was in my lap, essentially, I heaved the kayak upright and pushed it back in the water. More awkward maneuvering as I tried to get along side it, bow to stern, as required. I was a little apprehensive about bracing it, worried about inadequate upper body strength, but it was surprisingly easy to lean across his kayak and brace, while he heaved himself up and into the cockpit.
Then it was my turn. I took a deep breath and leaned again. I don't think my sinuses will ever acclimate to chlorinated pool water. I came up sputtering as usual, and then went through the steps.
After the first self rescue, I made a conscious effort not to use the floor of the pool, using only kicking and pulling to propel myself up on top of the kayak. At first it wasn't too bad, though I had to fight a tendency for my feet to come up in front of me so I would be floating on my back.
The assisted rescue went very smoothly; again I had to be aware of which way to turn as I got upright.
After that, I continued to flop over left and right, and practice self rescues, while the instructor worked with the couples. Flop hesitantly, I might add. I'm not keen to be under water, under a kayak. My nose fills with water and stings my eyes. And I soon developed a sinus headache. But I kept flopping over and repeating the steps.
At one point we got to raft up. That's when we all get side by side and hold on to each other's kayak, while the instructor explained why we would want to do that. We're much more stable holding on to each other like that, so can ride out some rough swells. And apparently, if we're all in one group like that, the orcas will come closer as they only have one big obstacle to avoid, instead of a bunch of little ones. Something to keep in mind if I manage to get on one of the trips to the west coast that they organize throughout the summer.
The self rescues started to become harder and harder to do. Adequate upper body strength I had for one or two, but a dozen was too taxing. We were eventually chased out of the pool by another group, and so gathered up the equipment to pile it in a soggy pile, and lean the kayaks against the wall inverted.
The instructor went through a few more things, and then we retired to the locker rooms to dress and head home through the wind and rain and snow.
L n K
# posted by Kelly @ 7:48 p.m. 
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