New Relationships

I previously wrote about the maiden voyage of a kayak I built. The design and characteristics of the archaic skin-on-frame boat were alien to me and fomented some trepidation going into that. So, shaking down a manufactured boat should be a walk in the park, right?

Not if the boat is toward the high end of the performance spectrum, which is where a recently acquired kayak resides. These kayaks will reward good technique but punish bad. The temperatures are getting a little cool to fully enjoy going to school on my faults.

Having some following means you held to congruency in words and actions. Therefore, I wasn’t totally surprised when someone asked why I would buy an expensive kayak without having paddled it. I have preached try-before-you-buy, especially if you’re not willing to eat the cost on a gamble. That’s not always easy if the seller is distant, which was the case here.

However, I had previously test paddled the plastic version of the boat. While manufacturers give some of them the same model designation as their composite counterparts, they are seldom really the same kayak. But, you can get an idea of what the stable mate will be like.

I found the plastic one to be very responsive and exciting. That ran contrary to some reviews that described the boat as too twitchy. I’ve learned to take those with a grain of salt. They may reflect a design trait but could also indicate a shortcoming of the paddler. This could be a tossup. Even though the plastic version didn’t feel excessively twitchy, the finer lines of a composite could push it over the line.

The opportunity to shake down this boat I chose was an outing with a paddling club. Not wanting to an audience for the trials, I arrived an hour early to put the boat through its paces. I launched and paddled to the beach area of the lake. This way, should I mess up, there was a nice sandy bottom. Paddling is about confidence and anticipating failure can undermine that. But, to avoid slogging through the mud, I was willing to take the precaution.

The boat readily leaned to the edge of the cockpit rim as I executed some turns and other prosaic maneuvers. So far, so good. A power boat went by and I used its wake to gauge the boat’s reaction to choppy water. Probably more accurately, I was measuring my performance in that boat. It went well.

Now for some rolls and other acid tests. At that moment, a girl’s rowing team rounded the bend in five sculls. Oh good, I really need spectators for this.

I quickly flipped over, hoping to get in the roll before they noticed me. Too quick. In my haste, I had neglected to affix the nose clip and I was inhaling lake water.

In a real world situation, I probably wouldn’t be wearing the clip but this wouldn’t take me by surprise. In this case, I was subconsciously expecting the protection and didn’t react fast enough. So, I lost a little cool and rushed the roll. A panic roll doesn’t work and this was no exception.

Regaining composure, I reset and the kayak responded with a perfect rendition. The girls had pulled even and gave me a cheering ovation. I simply waved, unable to vocalize with a lung full of water. I managed to wait out their passing before coughing it up.

Having successfully passed that threshold, I threw myself into a series of different kinds of rolls, remembered the nose clip this time.

It’s a bit like establishing a new relationship. You’re learning the reactions and testing the limits with worst-case scenarios. As with other relationships, if there’s going to be problems, better to find out now than later.