Told you so

I wrote something about Kopachuck State Park last year, back when the logging was about to start. Just a feeling that it was the beginning of the end. And now, that feeling is getting even stronger.

Laminated root rot is at the root of it all (pun intended), a disease that causes trees that look healthy enough to simply fall over without warning. It's not something that can be cured, except by cutting them down, which is what the State Parks program has called for. The logging is currently underway and, now that the area is being turned into something of a moonscape - and in spite of what was being said last year - State Parks is floating the idea that camping will never return to Kopachuck, although day use will. They say.

The whole thing sounds to me like that old Vietnam War line, "We had to destroy the village in order to save it." I guess it all depends on what your definitions of "save" and "destroy" are.

My crystal ball hasn't changed, however... here's my prediction: cutting will continue and camping will not. Day use will not be enough for the park to justify being open, so it will be shut down. The land is insanely valuable and budgets are tight. The park will be sold and developed, and the ubiquitous architectural monuments to capitalism and bad taste that have sprouted all along the waterfront properties of Puget Sound will take the place of trees and bushes. Where once was access for all will become private property, with all the mean-spirited signs and foul-tempered dogs that go along with it. The money from the sale will disappear into the general fund, or some other financial black hole and within a few years, will never be spoken of again.

The whole thing stinks of something, and it isn't root rot. I am not great at math, but like my mother used to say, I can put two and two together.

We had to destroy the park to save it. Or something.

There's a pretty good satirical video here that goes into the situation in a snarky, but engaging way. Truth is often pretty damn ironic.

Eleanor Stopps

Eleanor Stopps, the woman who was responsible for Protection Island being named a wildlife refuge, passed away a few days ago. At 92 years of age, Stopps had been battling cancer since being diagnosed in March and was surrounded by friends and family when she died. 

The Port Townsend Marine Science Center gives an annual award in her name, the Eleanor Stopps Environmental Leadership Award.

At her request, there will be no memorial service and her ashes will be spread on the grounds of her home in Mats Mats Bay.

Pete and Roger's point of view

"A beach is a place where a man can feel

He's the only soul in the world that's real."
The Who

Moving on

OK. I'll keep trying.

I've been battling with the new layout that Blogger has put together and, although I still don't like it, I'll keep at it. I can't let the machines win. There are a lot of things coming up... I can't just not talk about them.

I have a feeling that most of what's going to occupy this space for the next little while is going to be related to the Ikkatsu Expedition, which is starting in about six weeks. There's been a pile of work already put in and much, much more to come. Steve and Kiwi and I are busy with shooting ideas and survey techniques, and the actual planning of the route is coming along. But, like I said before, much, much more to come.

Interspersed among the talk of the open coast will be a post here and there about other topics: The Rainier climb is back on the calendar for late August, which is sure to be an epic tale in itself; There's the ongoing work with SAMi students on the Point Defiance trail guide; I have bitter issues with a torn plantar fascii ligament that I know I'll want to complain about; I hope to do some mountain biking this summer, sometime, somewhere; I'm in the process of planning the Camp Seymour kayak training again - sixth year now? Seventh?; There's sure to be a family trip or two in there too... sometimes those are the most entertaining anyway.

But the emphasis for the near future will be on the expedition, which is as it should be. The trip itself is going to be amazing and filming it will only add another layer of happy work. The concept has gotten under my skin in a way I don't think I could have foreseen, and I can't wait to actually get the miles underway. "The waiting," as Tom Petty says, "is the hardest part."

Meanwhile, I'll keep fighting the Blogger layout, learning as I go. Hopefully not learning too much at any given session.

The Medium is the problem

I began this blog 4 years ago this week. I've posted over 900 entries and I have genuinely enjoyed doing so. But I feel like it all may be coming to an end.

Readers won't be able to see it, but Blogger, the host of this site, has gone through some changes on how it is set up. In my opinion, they've taken something that worked well and have completely sodomized it. Photos are harder to post and less friendly. Editing is clunkier and less intuitive. It's not as fun as it was before and the process is entirely to blame.

I'm going to take a few days to try to educate myself. We'll see what happens after that.

Taking care of business

After last weekend's Anderson Island trip, I came home with a to-do list that ran a two full pages. Doing the practice survey gave us some idea of what we'd be up against on the coast and some of my tasks came out of that. Then there's the personal equipment list... still working on that. I did get the group gear up, although it will undoubtedly have a change or two going forward. (I hope to have the list of my gear posted to the web site within the next week.) 

Then there were a few media things I needed to do (done), as well as trying to make contact with the Makah for some on-camera items (haven't done yet). The most difficult part of this expedition - as with any - is the stuff you have to take care of before you get underway.

One of the most important things is to get the boat in shape. It's a great boat, this Dagger Sitka, my favorite kayak that isn't made anymore, but it needs a bit of maintenance before I get it to the starting line. I was able to do a stem-to-stern inventory on the beach last weekend, and I came up with a few things: bungees and rudder cables need replacing, some buckles should be re-glued, the first aid kit (which I consider to be part of the boat's basic material), needs to be gone through and updated, a few of the deck lines look a bit worn. Thankfully, there's nothing big that needs attention and I don't expect it to be a long process.

The boat's in the garage now, up on a set of horses, drying out. Resting up.

Nets

One of the tasks we'll be doing on this summer's Ikkatsu Expedition is pulling a trawl net that is designed to catch microplastic that is floating in the water. We tried it out on our trip around Vashon a few weeks ago and we've come up with some modifications that will hopefully make it easier to deploy and use. Another idea, since it is a fairly big drag (even though it's a pretty small net), is to use an in-line tow with Kiwi out in front. He'll be able to use a sail as well, and these things should all help to make it successful.

We got the net from Dr. Marcus Eriksen at the 5 Gyres Institute. Check out their site (and their link to the expedition web site), here.

Housekeeping

It is the nature of life that the bulk of our time is spent maintaining the infrastructure. Perhaps you have mused on this from time to time: I work to afford the car payment, to pay for the car, that I need to get to work. That's a simple flow chart, if you will, but even the most complex of sequences don't amount to much more than this.

And that's where I am, stuck in the infrastructure. I think the hardest part of any expedition, including this one upcoming in June, is the roll-up, the prelude. There are emails to be written, contacts to be finessed. There are specific protocol that need to be mastered and schedules that need to be cast in stone.

Except that schedules are never cast in stone. Once the trip is underway, there is only one task: to keep paddling. To keep putting one blade in front of the other. Each day takes care of itself, there is no subtext, no thought of the ulterior. It is a simple life, this expeditoneering.

Getting to the starting line is the hard part.

Secrets

When I was telling some of my friends at Surfrider about this summer's expedition, they all wanted to make sure that we wouldn't be giving away any secrets about which beaches along the Olympic coast were the best for waves. I assured them that we would give out information only on a need-to-know basis and hey, I don't want to broadcast the locations of secret spots any more than the next guy.

It's a pretty common feeling, whatever name it goes by. There's a drive to claim a place as our own, whether it really is or not, to protect it from all those who may follow, without really realizing that we are hardly the first to do so. I got mine, now get out! It's not always a malevolent urge - in fact, it can be quite the opposite - but it is often a misplaced emotion. "Like a couple of fleas arguing about who owns the dog," is the way Crocodile Dundee put it.

(And, if I get to the point that I'm quoting the philosophical musings of Crocodile Dundee, you know it's a lean day, metaphysically speaking.)

This past weekend, the Ikkatsu crew did an overnight to Anderson Island here in the south Sound, a chance to iron out some of the issues we still have, gear-wise and with regard to survey protocol. I'll probably get into these areas a little more in posts to follow, but over the course of the short trip I was hit by the similarities between the way I feel about our camp location and the way that surfers feel about their secret spots.

It's not a mystery, where we stayed. That's a photo of the place up top and there on the right, and there are precious few other places it could be on the island. Whether I come out and name it here really doesn't matter. Furthermore, it's not my place. I have no claim, legal or otherwise, to the beach, the lagoon or the uplands. It's a public park.

But it's my favorite place in the south Sound to pitch a tent. My favorite beach to watch a sunset from, to have a fire. The beer tastes finer here, the barbeque is better. Even the waves lapping on the shoreline as I fall asleep seem more like music here, more soothing. Secret or not, it's my "secret spot."

There was a bit of wind that died during the night. Morning was warm and calm. Steve even mentioned that the only thing wrong with the trip was that it was just a one-nighter. I would have to agree.

Saturday the 14th

After surviving another Friday-the-13th, I'm heading off to Anderson Island for an overnight with the Ikkatsu crew. In addition to the main group objectives - mostly having to do with camera and sound questions related to the filming process - each of us has our own little projects for this short trip. I know Steve and Kiwi will be focused on the tech side of things, getting good angles and synching shots in ways that will help with editing, so it falls to me to handle some of the low-tech issues.

I will set up a sample survey on the beach where we're camping and we'll all get a chance to practice the methods we'll be using this summer. I'm really curious to see how much time it takes to set up the transects, how difficult it is to do a thorough survey and how much debris we find. In addition, I'm looking forward to seeing what the nature of the debris is and where in each transect it will be located.

Beyond this, I want to finalize at least one of the gear lists and get it posted over on the expedition web site. Steve and Kiwi will be working on putting the filming gear together, so I'm planning on doing the list of the general kayaking and camping-related stuff. We've tried out a variety of things already - some that will make the cut and others that will not - and I just need to get the final roster on the record.

In addition, I'll be going over my kayak with a critical eye, making sure that everything is working correctly and replacing anything that looks like it might not last. I know there is a spring that needs to be replaced in the rudder mechanism, but I am wondering if there aren't a few cables that need to be updated as well. I expect the bungees will need to be redone too and I don't know what else. I'll check.

It should be a good weekend. The weather gods are supposed to be in a benevolent mood and the tides are cooperating with what we'll be trying to do. Add to this that Kiwi has volunteered to cook steak and potatoes for dinner tonight and things look even better.

Survey gear

The type of beach survey we'll be doing on this summer's Ikkatsu Expedition will follow the protocol laid out in the NOAA Marine Debris Shoreline Survey Field Guide. The particular method we'll be using is called a Standing-stock Survey, a method based on counting the flotsam without actually removing it. There's an element of random sampling involved and a fair bit of paperwork.

In terms of equipment we'll be carrying specifically for the survey process...

- Camera

- GPS

- Surveyor's measuring wheel

- Flag markers

- 100' measuring tape

- Work gloves

- Ruler

- Clipboards

- Data sheets (on waterproof paper)

- Pencils

A few of these items overlap with what we'll be bringing as general expedition gear (camera, GPS, etc), and we're going to try to substitute a 100 meter tape for the surveyor's wheel, but other than that, we're going to stick pretty close to the required list.

We're planning on doing a practice run this weekend out at Anderson Island. More on that later.

Morning medicine

If you feel under the weather,

If you feel a little bit peeved,

Take Granny's stand-by potion,

For any old cough or wheeze.

It's a cure for hepatitis, it's a cure for chronic insomnia,

It's a cure for tonsillitis and for water on the knee.

Tea in the morning, tea in the evening, tea at supper time,

You get tea when it's raining, tea when it's snowing,

Tea when the weather's fine.

You get tea as a mid-day stimulant,

You get tea with your afternoon tea,

For any old ailment or disease,

For Christ's sake, have a cuppa tea.

The Kinks

There's a fog lying low on the water outside. It's not raining at the moment but it did rain during the night and it looks like it won't be long before the next round. There's no wind and the Narrows is calm and quiet as the light grows in the morning sky.

I didn't go for a paddle this morning. There will be time for that later, when the wind and the waves pick up. Right now, I'm taking my cup of tea outside, to sit on the deck and watch the day come alive.

Practice

Coming up this weekend is another overnight trip, a short paddle but a long camp (if that makes any sense.) In preparing for the Ikkatsu Expedition, we are trying a bunch of different camera techniques, experimenting with new gear and trying to work out some of the other things that will go into the survey process. It's not the paddling that we need to work on; it's all the other stuff. We just figured it would work better - and be more fun - if we actually set it all up, "for reals," as the boy would say.

NOAA has a book on proper survey techniques... our particular method is going to be something called a "standing-stock study," and unlike other types of surveys, it doesn't require that we collect the debris we find. Which is good, since space is at something of a premium in a sea kayak.

I was listening to a radio interview the other day with Curt Ebbesmeyer, the undisputed expert on all things flotsam. (He literally wrote the book: "Flotsametrics," and is the planet's leading authority on how ocean currents work.) He had plenty of insights on what we can expect from this summer's trip and I am hopeful that we can talk with him before we head out, but of all the things he said in that particular interview, there was one nugget that really made my ears perk up. He said that, when the higher concentrations of tsunami debris start showing up, we can expect a spike in Japanese glass fishnet floats.

The glass balls are the number one, primero elusive beach combing find, as far as I am concerned. Other people find them, people I have paddled with have found them; it's just that I have never found them. But, according to Ebbesmeyer, the tsunami washed thousands of them out into open water, reserves that had not been used in many years but that had been stored near coastal fishing operations when the big wave hit.

If that is true, then maybe, just maybe, I will trip over one out there somewhere. And, if I do, that will be one survey item that I will make room for in my kayak.

Firewood round-up

With the days getting longer, and light getting here earlier and sticking around a little later, I'm hoping to enjoy a few more morning paddles that don't require as much night vision. This morning was idyllic: flat calm water, slack current and no wind. I took the Bark 14 out for a spin, went south toward the Narrows, then turned back in toward the last house on the south end of the beach, #104. There's usually a log pile down at that end, most of which have been claimed already, and today was no different.

I was able, however, to free a chunk of cedar and a twenty-foot fir log from the pile that hadn't been tied off yet and, as the tide turned and the current began to flow northward once again, I guided them back home using my paddle as a pike pole. Got them pushed up under the house, bucked the big one down into 4 sections so I could maneuver them above the high tide mark, got inside and took a quick shower, and I'm ready for work to start in another half-hour or so.

A fine morning's paddle.

Schoolwork

One of the classes I'm teaching this semester is a small group project that is going to produce a guide book to the trails of Point Defiance Park. (I keep saying that because, as the end of the semester approaches, it seems less likely that it will happen.)

No, I don't mean that. It will happen, we'll get it done. It is a lot of work, but we have 17 more sessions to complete the task. Now that spring break is done, it's time to get the noses to the grindstone, finish up the trail surveys and measurements, and get to writing.

We have until the first week of June.

Because we shoot things

The Japanese fishing vessel that was spotted off of Haida Gwaii is now 6000 feet deeper down, on the bottom of the sea. A US Coast Guard ship unloaded its ordnance on the drifting hulk; she never stood a chance. You can, if you have not already heard of the sinking, read the summary here.

I don't claim to be a marine scientist, or an ocean salvage expert, or any number of things that might have some bearing on the discussion of whether this was the right course of action to take, but I do have my opinions. (Which is undoubtedly an understatement.) Still, the damn thing floated all the way here from the other side of the world - and all we could think to do was fill it full of holes and install it on the sea floor? It seems like we could have at least thought of something other than that.

Would it have been at all interesting to have tried to land someone on board? Take some photos? See if there was fuel on board? Bodies? Could it have been towed? Salvaged? But these are just questions. We have plenty of time for questions now, yes?

We shoot first, you see, and ask questions later.

Many things

The full moon is a glowing platter in the early morning sky. The water in the Narrows is bathed in light, in the way that only a full moon can do. Somehow, in some arcane and pagan calculation, this particular full moon means that tomorrow is Easter Sunday. (Am I the only one that finds this strange?)

The Mariners won their (North American) season opener against the A's last night, continuing to provide the believers among us with hope. It remains to be seen if any of that hope survives beyond Memorial Day.

O.A.R. Northwest began their circumnavigation of Vancouver Island yesterday in preparation for the race across the Atlantic later this summer. Quite an exciting venture. I am looking forward to the updates.

The boy and I got home yesterday from our whirlwind trip to California. The car ran well all the way back and the boy approves of the sun roof.

My heel is still sore, to the point that I am staggering like an old drunk much of the time. I fear medical attention will need to be sought, from a real doctor. The VA may not be able to help on this one.

Work on the Ikkatsu 2012 project continues. Next weekend is our last scheduled overnight paddle before we set out and I am anticipating getting the equipment lists and the specific shooting script items taken care of by the time the weekend is over. Momentum is building as the start date approaches, support is coming from many different directions, and I want to make sure that we've done all we can to make the mission a success before we begin. The whole thing is quite exciting, I think.

In a few hours I'll eat a stack of buttermilk pancakes (mmmmm) and head off for a day of work in the shop. The weather should be nice, which means the farmer's market will be rockin', which means I'll be busy for sure, but that's supposed to be a good thing, eh?

It's good to be home again.

Attitude overload

If you're the type of person to put a lame sticker like this on your 1978 Datsun Honeybee, I'm guessing that, whatever your nickname may be, it definitely has the word "bag" in it.

Or "nozzle."

Ch, ch, ch, changes

I sound old when I talk like this, older than I am even, which is saying something. Coming back to SB has its bittersweet moments, which is probably how anyone feels when they go back to their old home town. The changes that the years have brought, a cheaper veneer of newness laid atop the places that still seem alive in the memory.

But they aren't alive, no matter how much I may wish it so. Change is inexorable, relentless and without pity. The palm reader at the corner of Fairview and Hollister is still there, and so is Santa Cruz Market, but Heidi's Pies (remember Heidi's Pies?) is a teriyaki joint and DJ's and Char West are both Taco Bell franchises. Hi Time Liquors is still there (where I bought beer when I was 17), but Thrifty Drugs is a Rite Aid now and there is no more ice cream counter. Ingall's Plumbing is a thrift shop and McConnell's Ice Cream - gone these many years from the corner of Mission and State, still looks wrong without that big cow statue on the roof.

It is a mixture of the same and the different, the achingly old and the painfully new. How did Mountain Air Sports survive when Copeland's didn't? Where did Rockpile Records go, and Shakey's Pizza on Calle Real?

Yes, this is old man talk. I know it and I never intended to let it get to this point. Hell, I never thought I'd live this long anyway.

The most bitter pill, however, is the loss of the old airport. The postcard-worthy, perfectly mediterranean architectural treat of an airfield terminal has been replaced by a graceless, boxy abortion of stucco and puke, made to look like some taste-tortured tourist's version of what Santa Barbara would look like if it were a parking garage in the sketchy part of Reseda. When we landed and got off the plane, I had to squint and rub my eyes for at least a minute before I could bring myself to believe that we had really arrived.

If this is change, I want it changed back.

Santa Barbara

The boy and I are leaving this morning, flying down to Santa Barbara to see my father for a few days, then driving his car back up to Tacoma. He's recently moved into a retirement community and doesn't particularly want a car anymore. (It's quite possible that he never really "wanted" a car anyway, but now he really has no use for one.) So we're taking it, and gratefully, since Volkswagen owners like me never know when the next automobile crisis is likely to break out. It's good to have a back-up and I hear that Hondas are quite dependable.

I'm hoping to get a look at some paddleboards while we're down there, get into Blueline and see what's new and hot. But mostly, it's a father-son trip for me and the boy, and I've already been informed that whatever hotels we may stop into on the way back up north better have some good swimming pools.

Speaking for those who have no voice

It's an elusive creature, seldom seen and little understood. Studies should be done, to be sure, but the Pacific Northwest Tree Octopus is destined to remain an enigma, no matter how much study comes along.

This quiet forest denizen is native to the Olympic Peninsula and typically finds its mate in the waters of Hood Canal, where the offspring spend the early portion of their lives before retreating to the thick, damp forests on the eastern side of the peninsula. They are believed to be an endangered species, long sought-after for use in fashion as well as other human pursuits and their ongoing survival is very much in the balance. For more on these gentle creatures, visit this site that is dedicated to their preservation and learn how you can help.

We have an obligation to protect not only the beautiful parts of our natural world, not just the baby seals and the pandas, but the rest of our fragile planet as well. Extinction is forever. Please do your part... we can't allow our collective shortsightedness to drive the Northwest Tree octopus out of our environment forever, to make it go the way of the noble fur-bearing trout.