Expect Suspense: Course Overview

This year’s course covers 3445 kilometers, visits a total of six nations (Monaco, France, Spain, Andorra, Switzerland, and Italy) and includes a team time trial for the first time since 2005.

Tour organizers have done their best to put together a course that will leave us on the edge of our seats until the final mountain stage on Saturday, July 25th. Instead of the usual prologue, things kick off with a full length TT (15.5k) that features almost 7 miles of climbing. The challenging first stage should begin to separate the men from the boys right off the bat.

Watch for Cavendish to come out swinging in the first week when the roads are relatively flat and his legs are fresh – Columbia-HTC will be eager to strike with early stage wins so that they can focus on supporting team leader and GC-contender Kim Kirchen as the tour hits the first of the mountain stages,

In Stage 7, the race heads into the Pyrenees mountains of Spain for three days where the race for the overall lead will begin to take shape. After returning to France, racers will enjoy a few more flat stages during week two before heading back into the mountains – the Alps this time - for a Stage 15 mountain-top finish in Verbier, followed by two more days of mountainous terrain.

The Alps will finish what the Pyrenees started. For the first time in history, Tour organizers have left the final, decisive mountaintop finish until Stage 20, the penultimate day ahead of the finish in Paris. The infamous Mt Ventoux claimed British cyclist Tom Simpsons life in 1967 and is considered one of the most legendary climbs in the history of the Tour.

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Team Columbia-HTC Prepares to Attack the 2009 Tour de France

The roster is stacked, long training miles are banked and the boys of Team Columbia-HTC are headed to Paris. Poised to continue the impressive winning streak that has characterized their 2009 season, they’ll ride into the Tour de France boasting 49 wins (including 6 National Championship titles) already this year – the most of any team in professional cycling.

With a new co-sponsor added early this week (HTC, a designer of mobile phones), the pre-Tour excitement has reached a fever pitch. A new co-sponsor means new kits (team uniforms) so keep your eyes out for a fresh look just in time for the big show. They’ll reveal their updated spandex super-hero outfits in Monaco on July 3rd, the day before things kick off on Stage One.

Last year, the team managed to pull off a stunning debut Tour de France performance with 5 individual stage wins and 4 days in the yellow jersey as well as a host of other honors. And we’re expecting them to go just as big for 2009.

The fastest man in the world?

Worried about whether you’ll be able to recognize the team in their new gear? Don’t be. If world-class sprinter and human land-rocket Mark Cavendish has anything to say about it, Team Columbia-HTC should be hard to miss during the opening stages.

Cavendish, whom many believe is the fastest man on a bike right now, won a remarkable four stages in last year’s Tour de France – and you can believe he has his sights set on a repeat. Having nabbed two stages of the Giro d’Italia this May (and a host of other major wins), the Englishman from Isle of Man looks primed to light things up when the finish line approaches – but in a field stacked with talented sprinters, he’s going to have his work cut out for him.

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 Source: le Tour de France

Oh man, this sucks! I haven't thrown a full load on my back in years, and now I'm paying the price in mental anguish that feels totally terminal. I keep shifting my pack, in which I've tossed out all but the lightest essentials, to minimize the slicing into my shoulders. With some 7 miles of bare White River Trail before us it's unavoidable--my skis and boots are strapped onto my five day load for full effect. It's counter intuitive. As a habit I resist carrying ski gear. By design they're meant to be on my feet - not the back, and to do so I might as well throw in a couple of rocks for good measure. Focusing on the end game, I endure the pain knowing that the traveling gain will be justified. In fact, that's the point of our venture into the Dakobed Range. Skis, like a rope - ice axe - foot crampons make traverses possible when otherwise it might not be. They provide lateral and vertical leverage; allowing distance to flow unconstrained along the mountain spine. Marcel Kurz, who pioneered the Chamonix-to-Zermatt Haute Route in 1911, wrote, "In the high mountains the ski ceases to be a plaything. Circumstances make it a tool--the most useful aid to the winter mountaineer--but a simple tool intended to make traveling easier--something which we put on or take off like crampons and which is only a means to an end."

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The daffodils are starting to show off their color and neglected bikes are making their way out of garages, sheds and basements. Swarms of brightly colored boats navigate to and fro along the Deschutes River; paddlers uncertain of their balance and ability. Skate ski sessions end with down hill bike rides and nervous captains work diligently to fill the empty the slots on their team roosters.

Bend is preparing for its signature event, the Pole, Pedal, Paddle. Kicking off the start of summer and giving a final hurrah to ski season, Bend’s Annual Pole Pedal Paddle is an event that draws 2,800 competitors; teams, tandems and individuals skiing; skating, cycling, running, paddling and sprinting from Mt. Bachelor Ski Resort to Bend’s Les Schwab Amphitheater.

Preparation for the PPP can vary widely from intense months of endurance training to night before costume selection – and that is what makes it such a great event. Competitive athletes, families, friends, and the reluctant out-of-town uncle all come to get in on the fun. To be mildly prepared is a good thing, especially if undertaking the event alone. Following is a breakdown of what you will need to successfully complete the 6 stages for the Pole Pedal Paddle.

1. The Downhill Ski: To be competitive: Alpine skis with rear entry boots, your skate boots worn inside (for a speedy transition) and a current or former member of the US Alpine Ski Team To have fun: Snowboard or skis and the ability to ski down a Mt. Bachelor blue run To finish: Point your skis, snowboard or sled down hill and hope for the best

2. The Nordic Ski: To be competitive: Skate skis with fresh race wax and a competitive member of XC Oregon To have fun: Skate or Classic skies, at least one season of Nordic skiing under your belt and an intermediate level of mastery of those skinny skis To finish: The ability to make it up Screamer without passing out

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As I break out of the trees onto the frozen surface of Rainy Lake my spirit soars with the opening view. It feels good to be out. The muted light that display's eye catching shadows, shapes and lines is captivating, and super surreal. I'm encouraged to shift my up hill mode into touring casual. After a couple of storm cycles it's certain that epic powder stashes await throughout the high mountain reaches, but the perfect March temps and longer days have highlighted the buena vistas, and the call to slow the pace is in order.

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Even in early spring the New Mexico sun has me shedding layers as I work my way northwest up the sandy wash that defines Chaco Canyon. Here in the backcountry, a palpable sense of mystery and even spirituality permeates this storied landscape. There’s something about Chaco Canyon--and it’s spooky cluster of enormous kivas and great houses so skillfully constructed a millennia ago in a unique masonry style--that makes hiking here unique in the Southwest.. 

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As part of his ongoing collaboration with GreatOutdoors.com, photographer Art Wolfe previews another segment from his award-winning PBS series, Travels to the Edge with Art Wolfe. This time, Art takes us to Bolivia’s remote and rugged Altiplano.

In this episode of Travels to the Edge with Art Wolfe, Art visits  one of the earth’s most extreme environments—the high, rugged and remote Altiplano. More lunar than earthly in appearance, Bolivia’s high plain is a land lost in time. The Altiplano’s dazzling dreamscapes include the world’s largest salt flat, an island of golden cactus, scarlet-tinted lakes, twin volcanoes and surreal skies. See Art's video introduction to this program.

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It takes less than an hour to ski from historic Num-Ti-Jah Lodge on the north shore down to the south end of Bow Lake, but this is one easy round trip that can prove unforgettable. The snow-covered peaks forming the crest of the Canadian Rockies are lined up like brothers along the west shore of the lake, making a storybook backdrop to the mid-winter scene. The open, table-flat expanse of the frozen lake adds an airy, big-sky feel to the austere beauty of these iconic mountains. And, as our skis carry us quickly across the snowy surface of lake ice, the genuine solitude  found here serves as the finishing touch to a winter outing in this spectacular corner of the Rockies. 

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World renowned photographer Art Wolfe talks with GreatOutdoors.com editor Peter Potterfield about the challenges, and the rewards, of the world-wide journeys he makes to produce his PBS Television program, Travels to the Edge with Art Wolf. See the beginning of this interview with Art, and see more about Travels to the Edge, including photo galleries, on GreatOutdoors.com.

World renowned photographer Art Wolfe talks with GreatOutdoors.com editor Peter Potterfield about the challenges, and the rewards, of the world-wide journeys he makes to produce his PBS Television program, Travels to the Edge with Art Wolfe. See more of this interview with Art, and see more about Travels to the Edge, including photo galleries, on GreatOutdoors.com.

World renowned photographer Art Wolfe talks with GreatOutdoors.com editor Peter Potterfield about the challenges, and the rewards, of the world-wide journeys he makes to produce his PBS Television program, Travels to the Edge with Art Wolfe. See more of this interview with Art, and see more about Travels to the Edge, including photo galleries, on GreatOutdoors.com.

Acclaimed mountain guide Lakpa Rita Sherpa confirmed his place in Sherpa and mountaineering history on February 13th when he stood atop Mount Kilimanjaro and became the first Sherpa to climb the Seven Summits—the highest peaks on every continent. Africa’s highest peak was the last of the summits for the 43-year old Sherpa man, who has been climbing since 1984 and first climbed Mount Everest in 1990. He was joined on the five-day journey to the top of the snow-capped 19,340-foot Kilimanjaro by Leavenworth, Washington alpinist Joe Puryear, who has documented the venture at www.climbafrica.blogspot.com. Sherpa Adventure Gear (www.sherpaadventuregear.com), a Renton, Washington manufacturer of apparel for mountain sports, sponsored the climb of Kilimanjaro.

The experienced mountain guide found Kilimanjaro easy compared to other high altitude ascents, but “extremely beautiful and interesting,” Lakpa Rita Sherpa wrote in an e-mail. “The route we climbed was very convoluted with much back and forth and lots of up and down. However the descent was straight down.” He was surprised that “it was very, very crowded on the mountain,” noting he and Puryear passed over 200 people the morning they reached the summit. They arrived at dawn on February 13th after a four-hour climb from their final camp with weather that was very cold but clear. To celebrate at the summit, "we danced and sang a traditional song with our local partners," wrote Lakpa Rita Sherpa.
 

Progress is going well. It is starting to look like a deck.

The dock floats and hardware have been ordered and received. After I give the lumber order a good going over, I'll order the wood for the frame.

Day 3

Day 4

Day 6

Day 8

Woody

PBS documentary starting tonight on the Puget Sound and the Chesapeake Bay. Watch it on TV or online:

Woody

Water, water, everywhere, and narry a drop to paddle.

After moving in to the new house, and spending a fortune on getting potable water and a few other repairs, my attention turned to painting. A house really starts to feel like a home as you try to cover up every little imperfection in the walls in preparation for several new coats of paint.

But as the weather warms the painting is getting old and the water begs for me to play. The problem is 32 cinder block steps from my driveway to the water on a 60 degree slope. No handrail. Only 3 blocks wide (2 blocks in some spots). You take your life in your own hands to carry more than your own weight to the bottom of these steps, and even the most hardy often stop to rest part way back up the hill. Obviously, something has to be done.

Joel is a craftsman and was highly recommended by others to solve my problem. After looking at my dilemma Joel started working his magic. In the area beside the steps Joel suggested a terraced switchback made from 6"x6" lumber to make a comfortable 5 1/2" rise for each step - handrails on the downhill sides - with a nice landing at the bottom above normal flood. From this landing I would have a place to attach a gangplank for the dock I plan to build myself.

Over the next few weeks I'll post pictures and a few comments as I see things progress at the end of each work day. It appears after 2 days to be going slow, but Joel and his partner Wade are putting down each timber with precision and anchoring it well into the earth below. It will be interesting to watch this take shape.

End of Day 1

End of Day 2

Woody

The crickets sound like sleigh bells as they sing through the night. So August feels like Christmas when I close my eyes. I'm seconds from sleeping as it crosses my mind. That everything changes and this is my time

Nina Gordon

It has been frustrating living so close to water knowing there is about 30 feet of chest deep mud between the firm shore and water deep enough to float a kayak.

Several plans over the spring were hatched, and almost as quickly they had to be shelved as first several plans to lengthen a dock were up ended by a flood that ripped the existing dock away.

Another plan was tested to build a 'ditch' through the mud to shore in order to launch near firm ground. But as summer came in the heat dried up the ditch.

The sun did create a 3-4" crust capable of supporting the weight of a walking human carrying a boat. It was still a messy ordeal to get into the water, but it was reachable, and another plan was tried to build a portable walkway over the mud.

So far, the walkway has worked well. The ability to roll the walkway up and off the mud when the rains come has worked as designed. The water is now within reach and the kayaking will commence...

Pictures

Woody

I haven't posted much this year, but I would be remiss in not acknowledging the the hand off of my first kayak.

The Guillemot was there on my first trip and took me on my very first Bill Dodge trip. She went with me the first day I paddled with my kids, and was there the day Greg Welker taught me how to roll.

My Guillemot seemed more submarine than kayak at times as she speared through every wave no matter how small. Even the most experienced kayaker couldn't paddle her far without the rudder. She loved to turn.

Excluding a few trips in Japan, she saw me come closer to harm than any of my other kayaks and brought me home safely. But before I had 50 trips under my belt I felt my skills had outgrown her and was looking to move on.

She rested quietly under a tarp for many years, coming out for a short period as my daughter moved up from her Necky Gannet. But for the last 5 years she languished under the tarp.

In the winter of 1998 I spent every spare moment after work and all day Saturday's and Sunday's placing cedar strips of wood next to each other until finally coating her with fiberglass and epoxy.

And on Jan 1st 1999 she made her (and mine) maiden voyage. I was lucky to live through that day.

I wish I could have paddled her once more. But it was a tight fit back when I weighed 165lbs. There is no way I could fit in the boat any longer.

The boat consumed so many hours in her assembly and brought so much pleasure over the years that it became invaluable to me. But she was wasting away under that blue tarp, so today I gave her away.

In the end it isn't the wood and fiberglass where the value lay, but in the memories that I keep.

Woody

Pictures

The song birds now wake me up each morning. As my eyes adjust from the sleep I look through my bedroom doorway past my living room and out at the lake. I smile.

Although I have been here for a month and a half, I haven't had a chance to get out on the lake to paddle with the exception of a short down river run to the dam, but I was looking forward to an up stream paddle as the dwellings appeared to thin out in that direction.

The 'lake' as it is called, is really the Occoquan Creek that has had it's flow interrupted by a dam a few miles down stream from where I live. But it has no resemblance to a lake at all as it twists and winds its way through Prince William County never getting more than a few dozen paddle strokes across.

The work day dragged on Friday as I waited for the time to pass so I could take my first adventure upstream. But once home it seemed like moments before I was changed and stepping in the mud to get in my kayak.

I backed away from shore and drew a deep breath. It felt good - the sunshine on my arms and face. It was at this moment I threw off the chill of winter and felt like I was truly embedded in spring.

There was a slight current heading upstream from the recent heavy rains. I could feel my right shoulder complain of the lack of paddling over the last several months.

Before long the houses fell away and I was alone on the creek. Paddling around each bend and feeling the slight breeze hit me from different angles. I passed ducks and geese, and even was entertained for a few minutes by a beaver making his way away from me.

A jet ski passed me at low speed, but a low fuel warning went off as they passed and the father and son pulled over to the bank to refuel.

I noticed a small log floating in the water and was thinking how it reminded me of an alligator tail. As I looked it slowly sank. It was alive, but I have no idea what it was. Possibly the back of a large turtle.

I turned around. I had been paddling into the sun for a while and without any sunscreen on I didn't want to burn. The jet ski, now refueled, continued on its way up the creek.

I noticed something fuzzy on the water. A giant ball of something. As I got close it suddenly ran at me across the water at high speed. I panicked and jolted as it ran right up to my cockpit until I realized it was a ball of fishing line. My paddle had snagged a submerged piece of line pulling the ball directly to me.

I saw what may have been a golden eagle. Much larger than a hawk, and a golden brown. It fled deeper into the woods as I paddled by. I've been surprised by all the wildlife I've seen in the last 6 weeks: squirrels, red tail hawks, deer, pileated woodpeckers, geese, mallards. As I sit here typing this a hawk flew across the water carrying a snake. Often in the early morning I see a lone bald eagle patrol the creek.

Before long I've returned home. I turn the kayak upside down against a tree and trudge up the hill to rinse off my water shoes before going inside. In a few moments it is dusk, and the song birds bring my day to a close.

Woody

It rained the entire trip to Leesylvania. But by the time I arrived it was just the occasional drip. Overcast with just the hint of a fog. The car top launch was closed, so I headed to the boat ramp and got a parking space up front.

A short paddle today, but my first for the year. Heading north to Farm Creek the water was glass smooth and felt a little thick. The kayak moved sluggishly through the water.

It was a short trip into the creek. The water was down so low that it was impossible to go beyond the pilings that cross the creek a short distance back.

After turning back out of the creek we headed to Freestone Point and explored the rocks up close. Many were undercut and appeared to be balanced on end on a pedestal. I'm often amazed at the interesting detail along the shore when we just stop and look. Just around the point a red fox scampered his way across the rocks and back in to the trees. The first time I've seen one here although I've heard others talk about them.

The paddle back to the launch was quiet and peaceful. Eating lunch by the water as the sun came out and colored my face a light pink. It was good to be on the water again...

Woody

Windier than I expected. Just the type of weather Patty likes. I hate the wind. I like the way it creates waves, but other than that, I just hate it.

We launched from Leesylvania and headed north. We crossed the boat ramps in short order, but we could see that out in Occoquan Bay the white caps. We knew that as we passed Whitestone Point we would be in the full force of it.

We paddled out from shore to stay out of range of the fishermen on the pier. And the closer we got to the point the louder we had to talk to hear each other. Once we rounded the point Patty mentioned going to Farm Creek, which lay directly up wind of our position.

"Do you want to paddle straight across or hug the shore to stay out of the wind?" I asked. She didn't need to reply as I already knew her answer. So off we headed into the wind. And an adventure it was. It started as gusts, but turned in to a steady blow. I gripped my paddle so hard to keep the wind from taking it that this short paddle would make a nasty blister on my right hand.

As the wind picked up we started to notice that the duck blind along shore wasn't moving. More accurately we noticed WE weren't moving. We dug in. The ache in my arms grew louder as we continued - inch by inch - toward Farm Creek.

Then it began to slacken. Just a tiny bit at first. As we moved toward the wind shadow created by a clump of trees ahead of us, the inches became feet until we were fully inside the creek and protected by the wind.

The relief was shocking. It almost seemed as though I was suddenly super human - moving my kayak forward with the lightest of strokes. We flushed ducks out of the creek for a short distance before the vegetation blocked our way.

We exited the creek the way we came in, passing some fishermen at the mouth. With deliberate purpose we headed out toward the river. We wanted to catch the full force of the wind for the ride back. At speed it almost seemed quiet. We could hear each other speak without shouting moving in this direction - A trick one should remember if you need to have a conversation with someone while paddling in high winds.

We surfed a few waves, but they were really too steep and short to get any good rides. But the wind pushed us along very fast. What took us an hour and 15 minutes to go out, took only 45 to get back. We rounded the end of Leesylvania by the car top launch and fell in to the lee. A short day but I was tired but satisfied with the paddle, despite the blister....

Woody

Somewhere in between the planes passing overhead and the traffic passing over the Key bridge, I found an inner peace sitting beside the river at Jack's Boathouse. With the cool breeze blowing across the water I caught up on the latest happenings from Frank. A lot has changed in the 2 years since I had been here.

I sat and looked for a few hours before finally getting on the water. Paddling and drifting in the wind up to Fletcher's then lazily paddling back up the opposite side of the river. Hunger had gotten the best of me so I checked in with Frank to find out how many Pirates were still out. As darkness fell pizza was ordered and would be waiting for the rest of the folks when they returned.

Marshall drove in to pick up his boat and we caught up while eating some pizza. Shortly after he left the kayaks came in and there was a whole new group to catch up with. Well fed and sleepy it was time to head home. Going in to work so early makes kayaking in Georgetown difficult. But I miss this place.

Woody

Yesterday had been clear skies with cool temperatures. There was almost no one at the park, despite this being Labor day weekend. It was such a perfect day I was afraid to disturb it - so I didn't. I pulled up a bench and just sat and looked. I sat some more and looked some more. Then I sat for a while and looked till I thought my soul was filled to the brim. Then I had lunch.

After lunch I sat and looked some more before heading home. I like days like this.

Today was a little warmer. The wind more slight as I edged away from shore. I headed out toward Conrad island, gliding over Hydrilla and Coons Tail. The shallow water dragged at my kayak and I felt tightness in my shoulders as I pulled through the water. A tug pushing two barges of sand headed up river.

At Conrad the boat traffic seemed light so I sprinted across the channel and turned left, thinking I would paddle around to Marumsco creek. The Cicadas soon drowned out all other sounds. Their song telling me Summer is coming to an end.

As I crossed the Occoquan Wildlife Refuge, I noticed a bit ahead of me two duck blinds, each with a jet black john boat tied up to them. Blast. The scene reminds me that Labor Day weekend also signals the beginning of hunting season. I heel around and head up the Occoquan, not wanting to disturb the hunters.

By now a steady parade of boats were streaming out of the marinas further up the Occoquan. It would not be safe to cross the channel where I had crossed earlier so I paddled up to near the railroad bridge. I was well within the no wake zone now and a narrow section here made it easy work to cross without affecting traffic.

For the return trip I hugged the eastern shore before turning back toward the park. The Hydrilla was thick and each paddle stroke had to be timed to avoid getting hung up in the green vegetation. The floating green mounds were interspersed with bright white feathers. Small air bubbles attached to the feathers made them so bright it was difficult to look at them even with my sunglasses.

I put my kayak away on the car and wondered back to the shore to have one last look. Deep breath.

My Daughter turned 17 this month. This seems like yesterday....

Woody

Throughout my travels in the northern and middle necks I've come to really like the people there. You can tell though, there are impacts from the more affluent northern Virginia crowd that is invading. Buying up all the water front properties, building 'McMansions', and putting up ADT signs in the front yard, they stick out like a giant pimple on otherwise rural country communities.

While crossing the upper Mattaponi river, I stopped to check out a public launch where 360 crosses and enjoyed the intimacy but was curious about the speedy current going through there. The current ran fast, and looked to be driven by tide. After making note that it was a 'possible return trip' I got back in the car as a truck backed in with a boat on the trailer.

I waited a moment as he backed in, but rather than go down the ramp he parked right next to me. I wondered why he did that and then noticed a young girl at my window. "Ya'll can leave now", she said. I was taken aback, not used to being ordered around by a child. It took a moment to register and she said it again - "Ya'll can leave now"

Then it clicked. She wasn't ordering me to leave, she was telling me it was ok to back out. Her father had avoided the ramp to keep from blocking me in as I left. I felt a bit embarrassed that I had initially thought the worse, when in fact this was the pure country politeness that I had come to love about this area that was showing through.

Lodge Landing was my choice to launch from for the weekend. A tributary off the South Yeocomico River near Callao, Va. Paddling left from the launch takes you out to the river, right takes you in to a well protected and very shallow creek.

As I launched a very polite fisherman held off pulling his boat out of the water while I launched. I want to live here.

In the shallows the water was so muddy it was obvious something was stirring it up. The water began to boil with fish and was so thick it was impossible to take a stroke without hitting them. They banged the underside of the boat and gave the visual that I was paddling though small rapids.

The heat was unbearable, and with the water saturated with Sea Nettles this made for a very hot trip. I decided to keep it short and opted to find shade to spend the remainder of the afternoon.

U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission
Office of Information and Public Affairs Washington, DC 20207
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
May 31, 2007
Release #07-201

Firm's Recall Hotline: (877) 677-4327
CPSC Recall Hotline: (800) 638-2772
CPSC Media Contact: (301) 504-7908

Kayak Paddle Floats Recalled by NRS Due to Drowning Hazard
WASHINGTON, D.C. - The U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission, in cooperation with the firm named below, today announced a voluntary recall of the following consumer product. Consumers should stop using recalled products immediately unless otherwise instructed.

Name of product: NRS Sea Kayak Paddle Floats

Units: About 1,000

Distributor: NRS, of Moscow, Idaho

Hazard: The plastic tubes used to inflate the paddle float could break and deflate, posing a drowning hazard to consumers.

Incidents/Injuries: NRS has received five reports of paddle floats breaking and deflating. No injuries have been reported.

Description: The NRS Sea Kayak Paddle Float is an inflatable device that is attached to one side of the paddle to help the kayaker re-enter the kayak in open water. The paddle float is yellow and black and measures 15" wide by 28" long, before inflation. The NRS logo is on one side. This recall involves those paddle floats with inflation tubes that are clear or translucent. Paddle floats with black tubes are not included.

Sold at: NRS stores nationwide and NRS catalogs from July 2006 through March 2007 for about $40.

Manufactured in: China

Remedy: Consumers should stop using the paddle floats immediately and contact NRS to determine if you have one of the recalled models. NRS will provide a free replacement paddle float for consumers with recalled units.

Consumer Contact: For more information, consumers should call NRS toll-free at (877) 677-4327 between 6 a.m. and 7 p.m. PST Monday through Friday, or visit the firm's Web site at www.nrsweb.com

Several drills I've used over the years to both teach and learn skills that make a better kayaker. The most familiar of which is sitting on the rear deck just behind the cockpit with legs dangling over the side. This is a great way of of practicing the low brace because it teaches you the 'instinct' to slap the water with the paddle. As this skill increases, to make it more difficult I encourage putting your feet on the front deck or in the cockpit and try to paddle around. Great way to get wet!

But how to practice the high brace and leave in that element of instability that causes you to react instantly?

This weekend I played with sitting on the rear deck, feet on the front deck and leaning back and laying down. Facing toward the sky the elbows are under the paddle in a high brace position. The least little wobble sends you rolling toward the drink where the only thing that can save you is a lightning fast high brace slap of the paddle.

I've practiced high braces on flat water many times by tipping to one side, doing the head dink and bracing back up. Very stressful on the shoulder. But this method seemed to work well without any stress at all. It won't teach you the head dink or how to brace back up, but it will teach you to make it automatic when you need it.

So, if you've mastered the low brace, can sit on the back of your kayak, and are looking for that next challenge - lay back and try and stay upright!

Woody

Saturday night we camped in Assateague National Seashore Park before heading out to the back country on Sunday. (Orange Line) After filling the kayaks full of water and other supplies to last us three days we began our long slog toward the Green Run campsites.

The shallow water made it a slow paddle. We angled out away from shore to gain a little speed, aided by a slight wind out of the North. It had been a good while since I've put in some distance, and the loaded boat made my body groan with each pull of the paddle.

We decided to stop on the tip of Pine Tree to eat lunch. We were out quite a distance so it was a bit of a paddle to come in for the refueling. A short stop for a bite to eat, and before long we pushed off, heading again away from shore and into deeper waters. We angled our way toward the cut through by the Pirate Islands. Having never been there before I was constantly second guessing where the campsite was located. But as luck would have it I guessed correctly and before long we dragged our tired butts out of the kayaks and began setting up camp.

Another grueling chore...arriving only to continue to burn calories hauling up the essentials and making camp. By the time we sat down to eat - an easy meal of chili and mashed potatoes - we were exhausted. As the food was served someone made the comment 'This is the best meal I have ever eaten'. Immediately we all agreed. It WAS the best meal I had ever eaten and I felt like I had earned every single bite.

(Purple Line) On Monday we headed out after chatting with a ranger who had come out to look for a mare she needed to shoot with a contraceptive dart. We paddled around a few of the guts and got in close to several groups of ponies to get some photos. As I sat in the kayak wishing the ponies would get closer they suddenly bolted toward me, running out of the bushes.

The park ranger walked out of the brush behind them, carrying her dart gun. She raised it and fired, but I think she may have missed since she put the rifle down and walked over and picked the dart off the ground. We paddled away as to not interfere with her duties, and soon found an even larger group of ponies to photo.

It was a short paddling day, which I was thankful for since it gave me a chance to recover a bit from the previous day's paddle and to catch up on some reading. Before long though it was getting near dusk so we walked out to where the kayaks were beached to watch the sun set over the bay. Before the lights turned dark I thought I saw a kayak turn out in the bay and start heading our way, but after waiting a good bit for them to show up they never did.

After an awesome sunset we turned around to continue the show and watched a full moon rise above the trees, another awesome sight. But as dark surrounded us we called it a night.

(Green Line) On Tuesday we packed the kayaks for the trip back. We had originally planned to stay another day but the weather outlook was not looking good so we decided to play it safe. But there was still a good breeze blowing out of the north and a fog thick enough that we often navigated by compass. Reading the GPS I could see our speed often fell to 2 MPH threatening to make it a very long day. We tried to stay near shore as much we could to cut the wind but the shallow water slowed us even more. About half way back to Pine Tree the wind slackened a bit so we paddled out into some deeper water to gain some speed.

By the time we got to Pine Tree we were tired, cold, and grumpy, but pulling out the stove and heating up soup in a can did wonders for the spirit. As we headed away from Pine Tree we stayed closer to shore until we reached Tingles. By then the wind was slacking so we once again took to deeper water for the short distance we had left to paddle.

Overnight we stayed in the park one last time, recovering a good bit before the drive home. The warmth of the car felt good after a cold and breezy night.

The trip seemed like a blur. On the trip home I made note that the paddle out to Green Run seemed like it had happened weeks before. It was as if the trip was already a distant memory, but one that I will do again and again.

Pictures

Woody