Deep Sea Repairs

The nearest place we could find for me to stay south of Ostia was Anzia.  Too far to make it on a Friday in time for the Sabbath so I stayed in Ostia.  I read that there was a synagogue in Ostia, so on Saturday I set out to find it.  It was in the old city, which was separated from where I was staying by an hour and a half walk which included a section of non pedestrian friendly highway.  Had I known I wouldn’t have gone, but by the time I was walking along the edge of a highway I was almost there.  As it turned out, the synagogue, being an archaeological ruin from the first century, was on a dig site that required an admission fee, so no services for me.  Oh well.

Saturday night the club was throwing a party for the president.  He had just returned from an attempt to cross from Africa to America on an extremely small double hulled sailing boat, no cabin.  Had he succeeded he would have been the first, but far out in 30 knot winds his boat went over and his mast broke.  He activated his EPIRB and was picked up by a freighter.

Sunday was a bad weather day.

Day 59 (Monday):

Today I paddled to Anzia.  The vice president of the club came to see me off.  While making my beach launch I waited for a lull in the waves, and then put my boat down so that I would be taken out to sea when the waves picked up again.   Hopefully by then I would have my sprayskirt on and be ready, but it was not to be.  The VP, noticing that I was sitting in my boat on the sand messing around with my skirt thought that I needed a hand and gave me a shove off.  It was nice of him to try to be helpful, but without my skirt ready I took on a bunch of water while pushing through the breaking waves.  Oh well.

Once out I tried to lower my rudder.   It wouldn’t come down, sand must have gotten stuck in it.  I paddle fine without a rudder, but I paddle faster with one.  There were twenty miles ahead of me, I wanted it down.  Not excited about the prospect of another beach landing and takeoff, I sat and thought.  With the sun shining wonderfully I decided it was perfect weather for deep sea style repairs.

I set up my paddle float and began inching my way onto my rear deck towards the very end.  While the extra stability from my paddle float was enough to support my shenanigans in the center of the kayak, as I got to the end, the deck of the boat began to drop below the surface of the water and the kayak began to take some water into the cockpit as the bungees failed to sufficiently hold the makeshift outrigger in place.

In other words, as such, my plan wasn’t working.  I rolled off the deck into the water.  It was cold, but not unbearably so.  If all went well I’d be back in my boat in no time.  I positioned myself next to the rudder and tried to pull it down.  It wouldn’t move.

I don’t keep much gear on my deck, but I do have pliers and I put them to use.  The rudder was down in a moment and I climbed back into my boat.  Lessons learned, inflate both sides of the paddle float and not just one, attempt to wedge the paddle under the non bungee deck lines, and extend the paddle to its maximum length for best results.

Back on my way I was cold, but soon warmed up with the exertion of paddling.

Late in the afternoon I passed some ancient ruins.  I think I’m learning to distinguish between middle age ruins and Roman ruins, but I’m not sure.  Anyway I thought that these were Roman.  Aside from some dilapidated structures, there were large caves through a peninsula cliff, allowing one to look through it to the other side.  It was cool.

As I entered the port in the evening I passed the usual group of fishermen.  I couldn’t help but think bad thoughts at them, which probably makes me a bad person since it is unlikely that these are the same fishermen as the dozens of others who have done me harm on this trip.

Tonight I’m staying with the welcoming LNI here in Anzio.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Sit Down, You’re Rocking the Boat

A couple of days ago I tried changing the batteries in my waterproof headlamp. Salt water had gotten in and dissolved the inside pieces. It fell apart when I opened it.

Wednesday I ate breakfast, got ready to paddle, and puked. It looked like it would be another bad stomach day, so I sat in a comfy chair, watched Pulp Fiction among other movies on my computer, and managed to avoid moving unnecessarily for the next 24 hours. In the evening I forced myself to eat, which wasn’t easy.

Day 58 was a force to be reckoned with. The plan was to kayak from the Lega Navali in Santa Marinella (42.036273,11.87223) to the next Lega Navali, in Ostia(41.718111,12.301828). It would be a distance of about 30 nautical miles of coast, and on account of a strong headwind, I would be sticking close to the coast.

Even on the coast, though, my progress was slow. Moving into the headwind and the oncoming surf I passed by waterfront towns in the outskirts of Rome.

After a nature reserve I heard shooting above me. It wasn’t the first time; I also thought I heard shooting next to the airport in Genova. I didn’t think anybody was shooting at me, they say that if a bullet passes very near you, you can hear it whiz by. While I have been shot at plenty of times,* I’ve never heard the whiz of someone aiming for my head and just barely missing. Either way, no whiz, no visible shooter, I figured I’d be fine.

The Military dressed man on the beach who stopped me probably didn’t think so. I brought my boat as close as I risked and he told me I couldn’t paddle any further. I parked on the beach and got out. A sniper was practicing in a range and the coast was closed five miles out. I guess he wasn’t a very good sniper, if they were worried he might accidentally hit passing mariners up to five miles out. No, I was used to such rules, there are plenty of them in Israel.

I waited about half an hour and then was back on my way. There were a number of places I passed on my way and at each one I considered whether or not to stop. I was expected in Ostia some time between 7:00 and 9:00. If it looked like I wouldn’t make it in time, I would stop, call ahead, and finish tomorrow.

To stay out of the headwind I was paddling very close to the beach. The closer to the beach I got, the less current and headwind were against me. Considering this, and how many times before I’ve been in the same situation, it’s strange that I hadn’t until now accidentally washed up on shore. It was annoying. With my starboard side to the beach I was not at all in a position to launch. I tried anyways, and hopefully didn’t lose to much of the finish off of my bow. With what my boat has been through, the finish has probably been gone some time now, so I can rest easy.

In the afternoon when I had my last chance to stop for the day, an expected good thing happened, my headwind turned into a tailwind. At a decent speed I moved slightly away from the coast and began to cut straight across to Fiumicino where I passed the mouth of the Tiber at night. I looked up its wide banks and saw lots of lit up buildings on either side. It may be the largest river mouth I’ve passed yet, but I’m not sure since it’s been a long way.

The other noticeable thing about Fiumiccino was the airport. There was never a moment when a plane wasn’t taking off, one big commercial jet after another.

Paddling in the dark I found a seawall ahead of me and followed it away from land, only to take another turn at what seemed to be the top of a “C” heading back the way I had come. Had I accidentally moved into a port without realizing it? I hadn’t noticed any navigational lights. I was almost at my destination, or so I thought, and it was frustrating to be backtracking, looking for a way out to sea around the wall. The light from the city blinded me and I had no idea how long it would go on for. I shut off my own green/red light to allow my sight to improve slightly. Finally, I turned a corner and was headed back in the right direction.

Interestingly, a look at a map shows the area to be nothing like I perceived it at night. Fortunately, keeping the mainland on my left is easy enough even when depth and angle perception are completely thrown off.

Finally my GPS had shown me that I was there. I got the coordinates from the previous Lega Nevali, and thought that maybe I could make out the masts of sailboats just beyond the rise of the beach. I had also seen it on a map, I was fairly certain I was in the right place. A good thing too, because it had been a long day.

A couple of fisherman were fishing off a seawall and I checked with them just to make sure. They told me several things, among them, that I shouldn’t be paddling at night and that there was no Lega Navali here. “Are you sure?” I asked. Yes, they were absolutely certain, I would have to paddle for another kilometer.

Huh. I must have gotten bad coordinates. Maybe this was some other boat club, my host for the night would be waiting at Lega Navali, not here. It was 9:00 in the evening. I paddled on, past industrial places, storage houses, and beach bars, all dark in the night.

Finally, after about a kilometer and a half I saw an inviting beach that might have had some small sailboats parked a little ways up it. I stopped and got out. Wet, cold, and exhausted I dragged myself and my boat up the beach. The small sailboats I saw dissolved as phantoms.

I found a walkway that brought me past many small buildings, unlocked. I couldn’t make out much inside of them, but I was very cold and the small room would be a refuge. The building that I thought was the L.N.I. tuned out to be restaurant that was closing. I asked if I could leave my boat there over night.

“The Lega Navali isn’t far, about a kilometer back the way you came.” I was told.

I put in what felt like it ought to be a post-last effort. I paddled back the way I came. I came to a building on the beach that was toop dark to make out. A flag flew above it, a flag that might have had the “L.N.I.” on it. While I was thinking about it the surf surprised me with a short fight. I think the thought was that I was as beat as I looked.

I didn’t want to risk another wrong guess. I figured either this was it, or the fisherman was wrong and my GPS position was right. I didn’t want to do another beach landing and relaunch, so I paddled back to my GPS position. The land was right as I had seen it on the map, maybe I had been shown the wrong place.

I got out and climbed a very steep beach, stumbling and falling over myself and the sand. From the small hill I could see a field of light double hulled sail boats and a building with people in it just beyond. With great effort I got my boat next to one of the others.

Covered in sand and so tired, I wished I was a weaker man that I could cry, I found myself in a bar in the building asking if I could just sit there for a while.

It was the Lega Navali. The fisherman who told me it wasn’t was the devil, come out to try to put a stop to my trip in the night. I’m so close to finishing. The people of the L.N.I. were super nice; after a shower I found myself in a room with a couple dozen or so, finishing up a meeting. When I walked in, they all applauded.

I guess I deserved it, after all, I fought with the Devil and survived.

* True. ~ ed.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Cold Water

Day 57:

Yesterday I paddled the short distance to Santa Marinella since the next Lega Navale is in Fiumicino which was too far. Today I had intended to paddle there, but I woke up with a bad stomach, probably on account of some cheese I ate last night that I picked up in Rome. To lose the contents of your stomach on the water is to lose all your energy, so I thought I had better take the day off than risk it.

The weather was sunny and the water so clear I could see the sea bed as much as 20 feet down. It was a nice afternoon.

I thought I saw my first dolphin of the trip, when a black spot came quickly out of the water and then back down near a buoy. My experience with dolphins is that they won’t come up just once, but are constantly surfacing and submerging. I kept my eyes open to catch it again, only to find a diver in the same spot. I had seen his flippers pop up for a moment as he swam down.

Finishing with the warming sun still in the sky I decided I would practice a couple of rolls. If my River People dry top and NRS spray skirt were quality then I would have stayed almost completely dry. But even with my neoprene cap, I got wet while under and was very cold when getting out of my boat. The water is getting cold.

I was welcomed at the entrance to the harbor and made to feel at home in the Lega Navale here.

Star Fish

Day 56:

Yesterday I finished the paddle to the Lega Navale in Civitavecchia.  I had accidentally told them I would be there last Wednesday, when I meant Thursday, but was running late and with a two day break in Rome only arrived this evening.

What was Rome like?  I can only say that I may not have had the properly reverent attitude when passing the tombs of the popes who oversaw the crusades and the inquisition.  We were looking for the one behind the expulsion from Spain or he-who-was-pontiff during WWII, but were ushered out of the hall before we could find them.

The other interesting thing we noticed in the mausoleum is the number of popes who presided for two months or less.  There were a lot.  While a more empirical data set would be necessary, I suspect the conclusion would be the same as my conjecture.  Many popes died before their natural time, or that one is more likely to be selected pope if he is in extremely poor health.

I wasn’t on the water until about 1:30 p.m.  There was a wind that was sometimes helpful and sometimes not.  A little farther out to sea it would have been a strong wind, but I was within a few meters of the beach almost the whole day.

Most of the land was wilderness, woods or salt marshes.  Sometimes the trees would rise up high and at others they would be low scrubland things.  I saw a bird on the beach that had long legs, a long neck, and a long beak.  It was trying to find shallow water to stand in, but had to move on every time a wave would come.  I think it was somehow in the wrong place.

The wilderness ended and as night came I was paddling along a giant industrial plant that stank of sulfur.  Soon after I crossed a huge port that was designed for big boat traffic.  I kept my eyes open for anything that was too big to see me, but the water was quiet except for the occasional night fisherman.

Paddling along a seawall there were lots of fish around me, more than I’ve seen yet, splashing around the water and leaping out of it.  There was a big fish, about a foot and a half long that leaped out near the front of my boat, and thudded into my bow hull just under the water line.  My kayak shook.

I put my lure back in the water and before long was pretty sure I had caught something.  Anxious to end my day, I decided I would leave it there and deal with it when I pulled into port.

Blinded by a powerful light just above the water I went over some shallow rocks that I otherwise would have seen.  I shivered as my hull crunched over them knowing that another ugly scar would mark it.  A minute later my reel popped out from under the bungees.  I pulled my line in and found that I lost my lure and whatever tasty treat might still be hooked on it.

There were bioluminescents.  Little tiny sparks would spill off my paddle, or jump out of the water just behind them.  Farther away when a fish would leap, his landing would be marked by sparks bursting up after it.  It was a little bit of magic next to an industrial port.

Finally I pulled into the smaller port I was looking for.  I had saved the position on my GPS, and it’s a good thing because their navigational lights weren’t working.  In the darkness I didn’t see the harbor until I was only a very short distance away.

The president of the Lega Navale Civitavecchia was extremely welcoming and made me feel like a visiting lord.  He told me that the purpose of the Lega Navale was to help those doing awesome trips like mine, and educate youth about the sea.  Here they take kids out windsurfing.

The goal of education is a wonderful one.  The sea covers most of the globe, and its health is a good indicator of the health of the planet.  Right now the sea is not healthy, coral reefs are dying, water is rising and too warm, fish have poison in their livers, and overfishing is devastating natural habitats.  It’s nice to know that some people are still fighting.

I slept last night on a boat in one of the oldest Roman harbors.  The port is surrounded by ancient walls and battlements.

current port 42.034759,11.873002

My Search and Rescue

Last night I posted the exact position of my kayak on the blog. It is unusual for me to do this for security reasons, however, I was feeling generous.

This morning I had my night things in my duffel bag and was making my way towards my boat. Their was a coast guardian near my boat, possibly waiting for me and possibly minding his own business. I was best off avoiding the coast guard, so far they had only caused me trouble.

To get dressed and prepare my boat for launch I would need at least a half hour with it. A distraction was in order, how could I get the coast guardian away from my boat for half an hour? Arson, I would set fire to one of the other boats in the harbor and then quietly be off.

On second thought, I had probably better face my fate, I could even hope he wasn’t waiting for me.

“Is this your boat?” He asked me.

“Yes.”

“You need to come with me.” He said. Rats, what had I done now. He went on to tell me that he had been waiting by my boat all night.

“Sorry.”

“No problem, that’s my job.” He said kindly and professionally.

I met the captain of the harbor and we came to the following understanding. I would call a free number for the Italian coast guard search and rescue (SAR) force every night and tell them my position. The coast guard had gotten wind of my trip the night before. They had also come to the understanding that I was lost at sea and launched two boats and a rescue plane some time around midnight to recover what was left of me.

I learned later that this was partially my fault, I had arranged to meet the Lega Navale in Civitavecchia a night earlier then I had realized, and when I didn’t show up at the prearranged time they informed the coast guard. Sorry.

Day 55:

I set out in a straight line from Porto Ercole to Montalto Marina. I checked the weather and was expecting a mid level wind, that might have been a little helpful, especially in the afternoon. In fact it was a straight on headwind. I stopped for one of my breaks (42.360573,11.34613) and found that I was moving back the way I came at two knots. I decided to cut straight towards land hoping that the wind and current would be reduced there, even though it was over a mile out of the way.

I was hoping to make it past Montalto Marina so that I would have a short trip on Fridayto Civitavacchia, but instead I arrived late. The harbor there, the mouth of a river, is small and barely developed. I saw only one other boat on the water next to a high seawall and took mine out at a ramp. About a hundred meters away there was a small gated and locked yard with boats in it. The yard was next to a house so I knocked on the door to ask if I could leave my boat there. The man did not own the yard, or speak English, and told me I would have to wait until tomorrow.

I wanted to go to Rome for the weekend, my parents were there visiting, and I wanted to leave that night. So I climbed over the gate with my kayak, hid it in the yard, and made to leave when the man was out of the house again and yelling at me. He knew I had put the boat in the yard because it wasn’t where I he had seen it earlier, but the kayak was hidden well enough so that he couldn’t find it.

Angry and confused he went at me in Italian, and finally got really mad at me for not understanding him. Eventually he stormed off.

I called the coast guard number to tell them where I was and that I wouldn’t be paddling until the weekend. The man on the other end of the line was not only happy to talk to me, but was able to give me train information. That was really nice. Hopefully I will continue to enjoy a more positive relationship with the coast guard, and find my boat where I left it when I get back.

School

Why is it so important that I get back to school that I can’t finish my trip?

I have work to do.

http://scientistatwork.blogs.nytimes.com/