The wind had died down overnight and the lake was dead calm, like a polished blue mirror. It looked like a completely different place from yesterday. With my spirits somewhat lifted, although still broken in body, I got ready to take on the remaining 11 miles of my favorite lake. How tough can 11 miles on be on a perfectly docile lake?It was already 10 am when I managed to launch the kayak. I was slow in getting up (I was cold all night), and with still too much stuff it took forever to load everything in the kayak. And by then the wind had already picked up to a breezy 10 mph or so. It kept increasing in speed steadily; by the time I was 3 miles away it was blowing at 20 mph. It very soon became the longest 11 miles I've ever done in a kayak. Lake Pepin is a series of crescent shaped lakes each a few miles in length, separated by small peninsulas. This meant I couldn't see beyond the stretch of water I was on, and every time I entered the next lake, I was greeted by the intimidating sight of yet another large body of rough water looming ahead. It seemed to never end. It brought back some long repressed memories of my military service in the early 80's. In a moment of youthful stupidity, I had decided to enter a training program for infantry officers. Part of the selection/weeding out process was a 100 mile, 4 day forced march through some of the most inhospitable mountain desert terrain imaginable. The most discouraging thing was struggling up a long hill, in the hope that it will be the last one for the day, only to find yet another intimidating hill looming on the other side. It was like the concept of hell where you find yourself trapped in the same place or with the same people for eternity. Lake Pepin stirred up all those strong emotions and memories in me because it simply wouldn't quit.
By the time I had reached the end of the lake above Lock and Dam # 4, the wind was blowing at gale force strength. I was catapulted across a sandbank extending out from the shore like a novice Hawaii surfer. The kayak rolled onto its right side so far that the Pepsi bottle I had stowed under the deck mesh was ripped away, never to be seen again. I came very, very close to flipping the kayak on its head. I somehow managed to salvage the situation, and made my way to a calmer spot against the right bank of the river to stop and catch my breath. What a wild ride!
I managed to stay out of trouble for a while, but as I started getting closer to the lock, the river opened up into a mile wide lake again, and I again found myself at the mercy of the wind. By the time I had the lock in sight, I was being pushed all over the place by the wind and waves. As luck would have it, there was tow boat with barges in the process of clearing the lock, which meant at least a half hour wait. I limped over to the south side of a tiny island, in the hope of getting out of the wind and sitting tight until I could approach the lock, but that wasn't to be.
The strip of land was too narrow to provide any protection from the wind, and I got pushed out onto the open water again, my kayak drifting towards the dam at an alarming speed. You do not want to go anywhere near either side of these dams in a small boat, ever. The flow of water through the gates and the architecture of the dams create powerful hydraulic forces near the dams that will suck a small vessel under the surface like a giant swimming pool pump. So here I was, in the smallest boat on the river, being pushed towards the dam by a 25 mph wind and a 2 knott current, with only muscle power available to me. And adrenaline, a lot of adrenaline!
I turned the kayak around, into the wind and current, and I paddled like I've never paddled in my life before. There was no way I could make it back to the little island to try and hang on to a tree stump or a handful of grass. Luckily, very much so, for me, there was a little 19 foot Sea Ray boat waiting for the lock halfway to the island, or about 200 yards from where I found myself. I decided to make for the boat and hang on to its side. And I made it, with a reserve of strength I didn't know I had. There was a guy in his fifties and a younger Spanish speaking lady on the boat. They lassoed the bow of my kayak to their boat and let me hang on to the side of their boat until we entered the lock. They were real friendly - the young woman was very concerned about me; I thought the guy looked a little bemused. Anyway, his presence there saved my bacon.
Below Lock # 4 the river becomes more of a river again, and I could stay out of the wind and make fairly good progress. With hindsight, I should have looked for a place to camp right there and then. But it was still fairly early, conditions were good and I was making 4 mph, so I continued on, until late in the afternoon, I once again found myself on an open lake, with nowhere to camp, or even get off the water. My only option was to try and make Lock and Dam # 5, almost ten miles away. I've seen enough locks by then to know that there usually are dredge islands with sandy beaches below the locks that are good for camping. But it was late, the sun was setting fast and I was rocking and rolling in the wind, and very tired by then. But it's like riding a roller coaster - once you're on, you don't get off until it's over, so on I went.
When I got the lock, the sun had set, and there was a barge making its way through the last stage of lockage. I called the lock attendant on channel 14 on the VHF. With the wind noise, our combined accents and a constantly fading signal, it was not a hugely successful exercise in wireless communication. At least he got the idea that I was above the lock and in desperate need of getting to the other side. He let me through after the barge had cleared. I suspect I had drifted too close the the barge's exit route from the lock: a barge hand walked out onto the front row barge closest to me and shouted at me to get the f*** out of the way. I got the f*** of the way, real fast.
It was almost dark when I had cleared the lock. I could just make out the island to my left and spotted a nice beach with a level site for camping just behind it. I had traveled 36 miles for the day, in very trying conditions. I decided to stop there for a day to rest and re-organize my gear. My rudder was still not working properly - the deployment cords had to be fixed so they don't keep on snapping and the cables needed to adjusted. I had not done much writing to date, so I thought I'd catch up a bit.
The temperature dropped to 33 degrees F overnight. I did not sleep well.
By the time I had reached the end of the lake above Lock and Dam # 4, the wind was blowing at gale force strength. I was catapulted across a sandbank extending out from the shore like a novice Hawaii surfer. The kayak rolled onto its right side so far that the Pepsi bottle I had stowed under the deck mesh was ripped away, never to be seen again. I came very, very close to flipping the kayak on its head. I somehow managed to salvage the situation, and made my way to a calmer spot against the right bank of the river to stop and catch my breath. What a wild ride!
I managed to stay out of trouble for a while, but as I started getting closer to the lock, the river opened up into a mile wide lake again, and I again found myself at the mercy of the wind. By the time I had the lock in sight, I was being pushed all over the place by the wind and waves. As luck would have it, there was tow boat with barges in the process of clearing the lock, which meant at least a half hour wait. I limped over to the south side of a tiny island, in the hope of getting out of the wind and sitting tight until I could approach the lock, but that wasn't to be.
The strip of land was too narrow to provide any protection from the wind, and I got pushed out onto the open water again, my kayak drifting towards the dam at an alarming speed. You do not want to go anywhere near either side of these dams in a small boat, ever. The flow of water through the gates and the architecture of the dams create powerful hydraulic forces near the dams that will suck a small vessel under the surface like a giant swimming pool pump. So here I was, in the smallest boat on the river, being pushed towards the dam by a 25 mph wind and a 2 knott current, with only muscle power available to me. And adrenaline, a lot of adrenaline!
I turned the kayak around, into the wind and current, and I paddled like I've never paddled in my life before. There was no way I could make it back to the little island to try and hang on to a tree stump or a handful of grass. Luckily, very much so, for me, there was a little 19 foot Sea Ray boat waiting for the lock halfway to the island, or about 200 yards from where I found myself. I decided to make for the boat and hang on to its side. And I made it, with a reserve of strength I didn't know I had. There was a guy in his fifties and a younger Spanish speaking lady on the boat. They lassoed the bow of my kayak to their boat and let me hang on to the side of their boat until we entered the lock. They were real friendly - the young woman was very concerned about me; I thought the guy looked a little bemused. Anyway, his presence there saved my bacon.
Below Lock # 4 the river becomes more of a river again, and I could stay out of the wind and make fairly good progress. With hindsight, I should have looked for a place to camp right there and then. But it was still fairly early, conditions were good and I was making 4 mph, so I continued on, until late in the afternoon, I once again found myself on an open lake, with nowhere to camp, or even get off the water. My only option was to try and make Lock and Dam # 5, almost ten miles away. I've seen enough locks by then to know that there usually are dredge islands with sandy beaches below the locks that are good for camping. But it was late, the sun was setting fast and I was rocking and rolling in the wind, and very tired by then. But it's like riding a roller coaster - once you're on, you don't get off until it's over, so on I went.
When I got the lock, the sun had set, and there was a barge making its way through the last stage of lockage. I called the lock attendant on channel 14 on the VHF. With the wind noise, our combined accents and a constantly fading signal, it was not a hugely successful exercise in wireless communication. At least he got the idea that I was above the lock and in desperate need of getting to the other side. He let me through after the barge had cleared. I suspect I had drifted too close the the barge's exit route from the lock: a barge hand walked out onto the front row barge closest to me and shouted at me to get the f*** out of the way. I got the f*** of the way, real fast.
It was almost dark when I had cleared the lock. I could just make out the island to my left and spotted a nice beach with a level site for camping just behind it. I had traveled 36 miles for the day, in very trying conditions. I decided to stop there for a day to rest and re-organize my gear. My rudder was still not working properly - the deployment cords had to be fixed so they don't keep on snapping and the cables needed to adjusted. I had not done much writing to date, so I thought I'd catch up a bit.
The temperature dropped to 33 degrees F overnight. I did not sleep well.
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