Beach Walk Project - the BeachWalkBlog

Preparing for Oregon Waters: Summit to Sea

2011-06-06T09:26:00.000-07:00

Sunday-June 5, 2011
Hood River, OR

Our small team is fast approaching the start date of our Oregon Waters: Summit to Sea Event.

Starting in June the Beachwalk Team will be descending from the snowy summit of Mt. Hood, and following the snow melt on foot, bike and paddle as it flows down the Hood River, out to the Columbia to the sea by Astoria. From Astoria our team will turn south to walk and paddle the coast of Oregon to the border of California.

Oregon Waters: Summit to Sea is to celebrate Oregon communities and organizations that have taken positive steps to face environmental challenges in our watersheds. Starting with groups such as Columbia Riverkeeper whose offices are in Hood River, we will be meeting unique individuals and groups along the way to highlight some of the challenges in Oregon and how Oregonians have been innovative in addressing them.

This Sunday, in preparation for the launch date, I climbed up Mt. Hood via the Palmer Glacier and skied down. My late start allowed to me to meet everyone as they headed down from earlier summits and share a somewhat winded/exhausted hello between breaths. This was one of those situations where the LATE bird, not the EARLY got the worm and I was treated to the rare opportunity to have the summit all by myself. Nothing but wind, sky, snow and as rather 'philosophical' climber mentioned to me today, "Time with no ceiling".

I look forward to coming up here again in a few weeks to start Oregon - Summit to Sea.

As I prepared for my ski down, I wiped some snow from my helmet. The wind blew it over a cornice and it drifted one thousand feet below me onto the Eliot Glacier. I thought for a moment that the snow, so slow to melt on the summit, may take thirty years or more to finally reach the Columbia River. Thirty years from now, it might pass through the gills of a Salmon. The condition of that Salmon will be the legacy of our generation for the next.

Angry Herons at 5 o'clock

2010-10-27T08:02:00.000-07:00

Saturday - Oct 23, 2010 - Hood River, OR
This past Saturday the darn cat woke me at 3:30 am wanting to eat. At first I was mad, but finding myself fully awake I decide to rally on the river. I launch into the Columbia around 4:30 am and paddle on dark water under the haze of the moon diffused behind a veil of clouds. The water is glass, the geese are sleeping and I surprise them as I paddle by. I don’t speak Geese, but I pick up that they’re pissed. I am surrounded on both sides by the 1500 foot walls of the Gorge including the cliff escarpments of Mitchell point on my left and Dog Mountain in the distance on my right. Oh, if they could have enough snow to ski on them some day. I pass by some smaller tree and moss capped monolithic basalt islands rising up 50 feet out of the water. I paddle by the exposed trunks of trees drowned nearly 50 years ago with the Bonneville dam. They rise out of the water nearly 2 feet appearing, in the limited light as the dark shadowed heads of human spirits watching me.

As sunlight starts to lift to the east I find myself under the Native American fishing platforms where bits and pieces of rough cut lumber and drift wood have been patched together loosely and suspended over the water with salvaged steel cable. Hoop nets, tangles of gill nets and buoys lay scattered on the platforms and shoreline. Function, not neatness seems to be the virtue of natives. I pass by a small, shanty, indigenous lodge built on a cliff by the platforms.

“Hallo” I call, hoping that an old native will step out, smelling of smoke and wiping the sleep from his eyes and deep wrinkles. No such luck, although I am answered by a squacking Blue Heron, clearly irked by my interruption. Just for fun I imagine it is the wise native fisherman that has shifted his spirit.

Paddling back to Hood River into the sunrise, I pause under the 207 foot Wah-Gwin-Gwin falls ("tumbling or rushing waters") beneath the sleeping Columbia Gorge Hotel. The stench of Salmon Carcasses fill the air and fill the river with the gifts of five years of nutrients gathered from the ocean over 160 miles away.

My mother calls from Lake George, NY and we chat as she shares the view with me and the paddle back to the beach. I imagine in her own red kayak alongside me as we paddle in the light drizzle that has arrived to wash the haze off the morning.

One hundred yards more and I’m back on shore, and pull my skirt. yah...I wear a skirt. Proud of it. I start to shiver. The thought of making coffee while my family still sleeps and my dog and cat stare at me for breakfast warms me, starting with the smile.

Oct 16, 2010-Hood River-Lumpy waters at home

2010-10-16T21:39:00.000-07:00

Today as many other kayakers head out to the coast for the Alder Creek, Lumpy Waters event, I quietly allow the ocean to come to me. 20 pound salmon fattened with their years at sea, return to spawn and die. I paddle across the Columbia River, past patient fishermen and up the chilly White Salmon River. My boat and I are surrounded by hundreds of Salmon returning to the river. Their bodies, infested with parasites and are targets for a plethora of predators because they bring with them the much needed nutrition that the more sterile forest waters crave.

Rotting corpses feed seagulls, small fish and many plants in the riparian area.

160 miles they travel to return this favor to their place of birth. Imagine if we all did the same level of instinctive sacrifice for our places of birth?

Tuesday June 9, 2009 - Losing their lives for clean water

2009-06-09T14:02:00.000-07:00

Tuesday June 9, 2009 - Losing their lives for clean water
Today I learned the true cost of defending water. Two friends of mine have lost family members during a protest last week in Peru to protect their village and water

They were protesting the Peruvian government’s policy to open their lands for oil and gas development. A practice that has severely compromised the quality of their water in the recent past.

Peru is surprisingly close to the United States. I think sometimes in the US we take for granted that clean water is an environmental issue that can only affect tourism. If left unchecked clean water threats can quickly become a humanitarian issue.

Link to Article:
http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5j9pNpad9T95Yc7VQREA4BViTQRhwD98KUCCG0?index=2

Monday May 18, 2009 - Sailn' Through the Gorge

2009-05-18T23:38:00.000-07:00

Monday May 18, 2009 - Sailn' Through the Gorge. Viento - Hood River(10 miles)
45 knots, 45 degrees and 4-5 foot swells--welcome to the Gorge! I'll keep it short, but what a great afternoon paddle on the gorge. West winds carried me upriver to our happy town of Hood River against a 2 knot current of chilly snowmelt heading down to the Pacific Ocean.

After entering from a rocky beach at Viento Park, I headed over to a native american fishing village where I was just in time to watch them bring up nets filled with massive spring running salmon.

Sailing through the famous windsurfing spots, Hatchery, and Swell City I had the thrill of surfing while still over 140 miles from the nearest coast.

It has been challenging to watch three great projects get underway while still working on the next leg of Beachwalk Project.
Roz Savage is about to embark on the next phase of her Pacific Ocean paddle-http://rozsavage.com/
Margo Pelligrino is completing her paddle of the Gulf Coast-http://www.miami2maine.com/Miami2Maine/Welcome.html
and
Christopher Swain prepares for his Atlantic Coast swim-
http://www.swimforcleanwater.org/

All these individuals are using their adventure to raise awareness for the protection of clean water. Planning a personal adventure is challenging enough, but trying to incorporate a cause into it can sometimes be a bit daunting. I admire their ambition and more importantly their persistent optimism.

Saturday November 1, 2008 – Magic of the Columbia River

2008-11-04T02:24:00.000-08:00

Saturday November 1, 2008 – Magic of the Columbia River
Beacon Rock - Washougal (18.8 miles)

Over 1200 miles long, the Columbia River (known as Wimahl or Big River in the Gorge region’s native Chinook Language) is America’s fifth largest river by volume. It is along the banks of this quiet giant of a river in a small town named Hood River that I have been preparing for the next venture for the Beachwalk Project. Having a watershed near the size of France and draining two Canadian provences and seven US states (Idaho, Oregon, Washington, Montana, Wyoming, Utah & Nevada) you can imagine that the Columbia must have a variety scenery that it passes through. This weekend’s paddle was no exception.

I had the luck of meeting up with Dan Gavere from Werner Paddles who happened to be in town for the weekend.

“I’ve got a great paddle for us.” I said over the phone on Friday. “Distance? Oh yeah…ten, maybe twelve miles, but great topography!”

Feeling less confident about my distance estimation, as Dan pulled out a new hand held nautical GPS, I tried to distract him from marking his first waypoint. “Hey Dan check that out. That’s Beacon Rock. Did some of my first rock climbing there. Pretty amazing eh?”

Beacon Rock, the basalt core of an ancient volcano, is a monolythic wonder. Rising nearly 850 feet out of the waters of the Columbia, it offers hundreds of rock climbs.

“Sounds like great run.” was Dan’s reply as I pointed out the rather sketchy hiking trail on Beacon that was completed in the 1920’s with cantilevered bridges spanning rock faces. Only slightly distracted, Dan still remembered to mark his waypoint on the GPS….

”Drat.”

Gathering our gear we paddled out into the Columbia. A 2-3 knot current coupled with a steady 15 – 20 knot tailwind promised our travel would be quick. As we paddled into the main channel we must have appeared a strange apparition for the still groggy fishermen. I sitting low in my mango orange Old Town kayak along side a long haired fellow who appeared to be walking on water and sweeping it at the same time.

You see Dan is one of the early Guru’s of the now fastest growing paddling sport of stand up boards. Over the course of the day I began to understand why Dan, with over 30 years of kayaking under his belt, has chosen stand up to be his current favorite paddling sport. He literally surfed downriver.

“I thought he was walking on water.” was the comment from one of the fishermen upon seeing Dan surf by..
“Or you had run up on another sandbar again.” came the rebuttal from his shipmate.

The winds picked up steadily as Dan I entered the middle of our venture. Surfing on some good sized waves we turned to our left and peering beyond one of Columbia’s many fast moving river barges we could see the 700 foot cascade of Multnohmah Falls. The falls diverted our attention only for a moment as a three tiered, 80 foot paddle boat from nearby Cascade Locks headed our way and ushered us downriver to Phoca Rock a one hundred foot high rock island rising out of the middle of the Columbia.

A sudden gust knocked down my kite and as I fumbled with the lines Dan pulled ashore and scaled Phoca for a better view. We regrouped in the wind-shadow offered by the bold island and then continued to the base of the edifice of Cape Horn, a quarter mile span of sheer basalt cliffs rising over 900 feet out of the river. I marveled at the persistance, against all odds, of a bonsai-like evergreen that clung tenaciously to the tip of the actual horn, a needle like rock formation that stands alone from the cliffs in the water.

The small network of roots, shrubs and mosses that clung to the base of the tree reminded me of the rewards for persistant people with a purpose. Slowly, over time and against all odds those people begin to build a network that builds on their work, and, over time change can be seen. Slow change, however, like the slow growth of the tree generates deep roots, and even when the tree actually dies, the roots that it leaves behind serve as a solid foundation for more generations to build upon.

Okay, don’t worry, I won’t get too philosophical with our venture at Beachwalk Project. I will be the first to admit that we are still amateurs in the area of Watershed stewardship. It is my hope, however, that our advocating efforts will motivate a child in a community to become that tenacious tree that creates change against all odds.

After a few hours, Dan and I finished our paddle at Steamboat Landing in Washougal. After loading our craft, we huddled in Dan’s van and like starving parrots feasted on roasted pistachios, reminding me of Stein’s saying, “the best spice in any food is hunger.”

Turns out our paddle was nearly 19 miles not the 12 that I had predicted. I’m still convinced the GPS is wrong. I also still think that it was pure dumn luck that Dan completed the paddle way ahead of me in a ‘casual’ manner. Just the same it was another gift to be back on the water.

In a matter of months, the small team of Beachwalk Project will be heading out of Seattle on our paddle out the Puget Sound and then South down the Pacific Coast. Once again we will be advocating for communities and specifically children of communities to rally behind the small organizations in their region that have been working to protect their local watersheds. We expect to organize and participate in over 50 different events in schools, aquariums, nature centers and on the beach.

Dan Gavere and everyone at Werner Paddles has been gracious enough to gather behind our project in support of our efforts.

Thank you to Werner, his wife and two sons for making such a great company that is so supportive of protecting the waters we live and play in. Thank you to Dan for his enthusiasm for our project, and his encouragement. The Beachwalk team is small, but the help of so many of our friends has helped us so much in reaching all the communities along the coast.

Sunday March 30, 2008 – History, Trash and Movies

2008-03-31T23:07:00.000-07:00

Sunday March 30, 2008 – History, Trash and Movies
(0 miles)
It was 10 am and despite the high angle of the sun, the light struggled to pierce the thick canopy of leaves that hung over my head. Behind me in the distance I could hear ocean waves crashing on the shell covered beaches of Tanguissan. A thin mist hovered just above the surface of the jungle floor as I pushed further into the darkness. I lowered the brim of my hat and there, concealed in the shadows alongside a fallen palm leaf, I found what I had come to see, an ancient pottery shard from over 500 years ago. Essentially, ancient trash. As I moved forward for a closer look, a single beam of light pierced the rustling leaves and illuminated the weathered artifact that had been constructed by the taotaomo’na or ‘ancestors’ of Guam.

CRUNCH! I stumbled as my foot pressed down on an empty beer can concealed on the jungle floor.
CRACK! Startled by the noise I jumped only to land on a half broken glass bottle.
SQUISH…POP! To regain my balance I stepped backwards landing my foot and all my body weight firmly on a three day old, disposable diaper; the festering contents of which exploded from the seams threatening to spackle my shoes and lower legs.

It is a Chamorro belief that the jungle needs to be respected. It is believed that before even entering the jungle one has to ask permission. But of course on this particular day I entered the jungle to find it littered, not with the artifacts of Guam’s forepeople but instead with the artificats of twenty first century.

Beverage cans, styrofoam plates, batteries, laminated chip bags, toilet paper and dirty diapers all littered the floor of the jungle. This area, supposedly a sacred area where the taotaomo’na spirits live, is now a trash dump.

Today members of the Beachwalk Project gathered together with Underwater World, students of the Marine Mania Biology Club and students of Sharks M.A.D.E.(Making a Difference in the Environment) to clean up Tanguissan Beach. With about twenty volunteers and four hours, the small group filled over eighty trash bags and thirty bags with recyclable bottles.

“My grandfather taught me to ask permission just to enter the jungle.” said Evelyn to Lacee Martinez of the Pacific Daily News, “today people just use it as a place to bring their trash.”

The future, however looks promising. Of those picking up trash today, the majority of the participants were high school students participating in clubs such as Marine Mania mentored by individuals like Linda Tatreau who have found there is a large group of students in Guam who feel compelled to, “to promote marine awareness and to protect the environment.”

Later that evening as the sun fell below the horizon and the sky became dark Evelyn and I found ourselves at Asan Beach for Movies in the Park to present photos of our travels along the coastlines of America. Our last photo was of the trash at Tanguissan Beach. Our challenge is to take the same photo, in the same spot next year. Will there still be the trash? Or will the actions of people like Linda Tatreau, and the students of Marine Mania and M.A.D.E. inspire others to demonstrate respect for the jungles of Guam which serve as the home for not just the ancestors of our past like the taotaomo’na but more importantly for the people of our future like our children.

Saturday March 29, 2008 – Day at the Races!

2008-03-29T23:42:00.000-07:00

Saturday March 29, 2008 – Day at the Races!
(0 miles)
Today we went to the races in Tumon Bay. Starting early at 7 am, the Interscholastic High School Paddling Races launched the outrigger racing season. The day began with the traditional blessing of a new outrigger added to a fleet of outrigger canoes at Matapang beach. Although the students attempted to stand still and show respect for this event, they shifted and struggled to suppress the tension of competition that hung in warm, humid air.

As the sun slipped higher into the horizon the first of the 6 person canoes headed off the beach and into the clear waters of Tumon Bay. As the remaining boats pushed off, I closed my eyes and imagined the crafts that had departed from this very spot hundreds of years before the Spanish had even arrived.

It was organized chaos as the 500 meter races began and the silhoettes of the first canoes approached from the South. Commands coming from the canoe teams echoed across the still water to the onlookers on the beach, who began to stir and murmur as the canoes neared the finish line. Coaches in their wide-brimmed straw hatts trotted barefoot in ankle deep water keeping pace with the boats of their team. A cheer erupted as the first team passed the finish line while other coaches encouraged the remaining teams to continue to paddle hard for the finish. 500 meters was covered in times as fast as 2 minutes 20 seconds which translates into an average boat speed of about 7.5 miles an hour. Could you wakeboard behind that?

The action continued for much of the morning as the they ran Girls, Boys and Mixed heats. Evelyn and I toured the tents that lined the beach to meet with the various teams hiding from the hot sun including her old school, JFK and the Simon Sanchez Sharks whose school we had presented to earlier this week.

I wondered what these students would be doing on this particular Saturday if the races did not exist. Where would they be? I admire the principal supported by Guam Kayak and Canoe Federation which encourages an appreciation for the environmental and cultural traditions of the island through the promotion of both recreational and competitive paddling sports.

Steve Kasperbauer for Alupang Beach Club agrees.

“The more people get out on this water and see how incredible it is, the more they will want to get involved in the protection of it.” said Steve when I talked with him earlier this week.

Our team has also discovered that paddlers, windsurfers, surfers and fishers alike are more invested and aware of the importance of protecting waters in the regions where they pursue their recreation.

As the midday sun reached high into the sky, and the races came to a close for the day, another paddle entered the water. It was that of Sean Pangelinan. His craft was a narrow, kevlar fiber olympic canoe. Quietly kneeling, Sean paddled swifty across the glassy waters of the bay practicing what is a relatively new sport for him but has been a medal sport in the Olympics since 1936. Onlookers paused from their games in the water to watch as this curious craft drifted by, barely creating ripples in the water. Passing by the High School competitors, his paddling was an inspiration for them just as current Olympians stand as an inspiration for him.

I think to myself, “Where will Sean be twenty years from now? Where will his love for water and competition in these beautiful boats take him and how will he use this unique talent and passion to make a difference in the lives of the people he meets along the way?”

I am clearly not destined to be an Olympian and chances are that many of the High School competitors will experience a fate similar to mine. What I do hope is that each of us will consider what gifts and what passions we do have and use them in a way that makes this funny place called earth a little better than we found it.

Friday March 28, 2008 – KaYACKERS of the BeachTALK Project

2008-03-28T23:53:00.000-07:00

Friday March 28, 2008 – KaYACKERS of the BeachTALK Project
(0 miles)

Friday was a day when the BeachWALK Project became the BeachTALK Project. With special thanks to Jenn Farley of Underwater World our small team was scheduled to give presentations at two different schools: Guam High School and Simon Sanchez High School.

DDESS Guam High School sits on top of Nimitz Hill, in the former COMNAVMARIANAS headquarters. The total district enrollment is about 2400 students and out presentation was to about 300 students in the cafeteria. The students were very receptive as we told them about ourAtlantic Coast venture and some issues that we found common on both the Atlantic Coast in Guam. I only wish that we could spend a week with each of these classrooms to exchange ideas and to explore original, imaginative solutions to some of the problems our watersheds face today. At the end of our presentation we had our first interview with a High School film production team. I was inspired to discover the students that were performing such professional tasks were in tenth grade. What great assets they will be to the community.

After a short drive and two cans of Mr. Brown’s coffee we arrived a Simon Sanchez High School in the village of Yigo. Simon Sanchez, home of the Sharks, has incredible school spirit. This school is deeply involved in recycling (I-recycle), outrigger canoe racing and beach clean-ups. The nature of some of the questions following our presentation demonstrated that these student truly understood what needs to be done to protect Guam. Many of these students, coming from families with generations on Guam, offered perspectives to environmental stewardship that promoted a fine balance between sensitivity to cultural traditions and sophisticated sustainable practices.

Following our presentations and feeling re-energized, we visited some of our sponsors, including Katie Black from Continental Airlines, Kathy of Avis Rental Car and Government of Guam Credit Union to share with them our inspiration from the youth of Guam. These companies, like many other in Guam have been there to support youth programs. It is our hope that they will set the example for all companies to give back to the communities that they serve.

Thursday March 27, 2008 – Buni Search

2008-03-28T18:04:00.000-07:00

Thursday March 27, 2008 – Buni Search
Various Dededo Farms (0 miles)

Feeling rather stiff and old, we opted to avoid paddling today. Besides, today was family day. Early in the morning we called Evelyn’s mother, the lovely Rosalina Tenorio Prog.

“Na, lets go find some Buni’is” said Evelyn on the phone to her mother.

Within minutes we were in the van, rolling toward Dededo to pick up Evelyn’s mom. Forty minutes and more than a dozen wrong turns later we arrived at an old friend’s farm in the hills of Dededo. A greeting party of several dogs, a few chickens, a mother pig and her piglets escorted us to the front door of the house, where we met with Evelyn’s friend Freddy Gangie and his mother Maria.

In an incredibly generous gesture Freddy handed Evelyn a bag full of the small, toxic and just downright angry Buni peppers.

“These…” said Evelyn, handing me the bag, “should be handled like a live explosives. Rub your eyes after touching these and they will melt. Eat them raw and you will DIE.”

I lifted a pepper out of the bag, faking to eat it.

“Go ahead. Eat it. Go ahead.” said Evelyn. “You have LIFE insurance. I’ll be okay.”

“Hmmm?” thought I. “Perhaps I should be a bit more careful.”

After rinsing my hands with fresh water in the van, I joined Freddy and Evelyn for a tour of the property. Scattered in small plots along the land we harvested delicious fruits from coconut, banana, papaya, and mandarin trees. We dug a small radish and visited robust pigs and chickens.

In serene irony this garden of eden emerged from fields littered with abandoned cars. The cinder block and reebar ruins of half finished pig pens quietly returned to the shadows of jungle overgrowth. I asked Freddy about the contrast of neatly planted trees, the unfinished buildings and the random debris on the property.

“Typhoons man.” he answered.

The destructive force of Typhoons definitely affect the psyche of the island locals. Each year typhoons threaten to wipe the slate clean by demolishing houses, submerging streets, and pulling the roots of thousands of trees and plants. Every year mother nature’s extreme form of spring cleaning threatens the locals to start over. Even developers in tourism, like Stever Kasperbaurer of Alupang Beach Club have had years of work and financial investment washed away by Typhoons.

“You have to plant local plants.” said Freddy with regards to agriculture. “They once had a coffee plantation here but it didn’t work. They grew real well, but the typhoons took the plants out.” Freddy, like many other farmers on the island have accidentally discovered the importance of permaculture, using native plants in sustainable agriculture and landscaping.

Other issues such as development of sustainable buildings and the disposal of consumer goods continue to be a challenge in Guam. The disposal of cars is not unique to Freddy’s property, but is an issue that is throughout the island. The unfinished construction of pig pens is small in scale to some hotel buildings that remain vacant and unrepaired from past typhoons.

Ultimately success on Guam is achieved through sustainable development and agriculture. Using native plants for food sources and to form a landscaping shield that protects building projects from the affects of erosion and high winds.
The small island of Guam is unique in its beauty. It is also unique in the strength and tenacity is must sustain when faced with the fury of the ocean.

Wednesday March 26, 2008 – Kayaking Lobsters

2008-03-27T00:49:00.000-07:00

Wednesday March 26, 2008 – Kayaking Lobsters
Tumon Bay to Agat (20 miles)

“Amazing what I’ll do just for a hotel room!” said Beachwalk team member Moses Winston who had joined the Beachwalk Project for our Guam venture.

Our friends, Moses and Martha Winston from New Mexico had agreed nearly six months ago to assist the Beachwalk team with logistics for the Guam venture. Martha Winston, like Evelyn, grew up in Guam but now lives with her family far away in New Mexico. While Martha helped Evelyn with final planning for the project, Moses agreed to accompany me on some legs of the kayaking around Guam.

As it turns out Moses like Stein and I during the Atlantic Coast venture had had quite a bit of experience with the ocean but had very little previous experience with kayaking. As we pushed off from Tumon bay at 7 am, Moses spent the first ten minutes ‘familiarizing’ himself with this new watercraft. (‘Familiarizing’ being a fancy term for accidentally capsizing the craft and then awkwardly clammering back on board).

Per Rick Appleton’s advice we located the marked natural ‘cut’ in the reef and pushed out through the moderate surf. Moses paddled like a champ. Champ being a loose term.

Within the hour as the sun lifted into the sky a favorable tail wind picked up and pushed us towards our destination of Apra Harbor and eventual Agat Marina.

The boats, supplied by Steve Kasperbauer from Alupang Beach Club proved to be both comfortable and fast. Despite using sit-inside kayaks from Old Town during our Atlantic Coast venture last year, we chose to experiment with sit-on-top kayaks for the warm waters of Guam. Alupang Beach Club, the principal retailer of Ocean Kayaks in Micronesia worked with our team to supply two sit-on-top kayaks, paddles and PFD’s for our Guam venture.

“These boats are affordable, easy to paddle and so versatile that the whole family can share the same boat.” said Steve of Alupang Beach Club, who is currently exploring the possibility of incorporating kayaking into school intramural programs in Guam. Steve hopes that the kayaks, which are made largely from recycled plastic could also eventually serve as a principal vehicle for many waterway based societies in Micronesia. “The sit-on-top kayaks offer a huge work surface for fishing, transporting supplies, or sharing the ride with the whole family.”

Moses proved to be a fast learner and soon was paddling at a surprising pace. With the added help of flying a Kayak kite, Moses and I manage to reach the Glass Break of Apra Harbor at about 11 am.

Of course travel on the ocean is rarely predictable and just when you think you have it figured out, you’re reminded that best laid plans can quickly change on the deep blue sea.

Foolishly feeling optimistic about our hero rate of travel I called Evelyn on the phone.

“Hi Evelyn.” I greeted her with confident enthusiasm. “Listen, we’re cranking along here. I expect we’ll be in Agat Marina in less than two hours.”

Minutes after hanging up with Evelyn we rounded the corner of Apra Harbour. Pa-wow! We were blasted with a sustained, 10-15 knot headwind. I recalled some simple kayak arithmetic: Tailwind=good, Headwind=bad. Suddenly our comfortable, Cadillac pace of 4 knots was slowed to a rather painful, no break pace of 2 knots per hour. That’s about as fast as a one legged frog dragging a five pound coconut.

Hiding in what wind shadow we could find, Moses and I paddled up close to the base of the 200 foot cliffs of Orote Peninsula, passing over the famous Guam diving spots of The Wall, Blue Hole and Sharks Pit. Considering the water just a deer’s leep from the shoreline is over six hundred feet deep, this would be a bad place to drop your wrist watch.

Passing under the sound of gunfire from the Naval Reserve we continued our struggle to Agat Marina.

I flinched at each volley of gunfire.

“Don’t worry bout the sound Bob.” Shouted Moses over the din. “It’s the pluck plucks in the water that you want to be concerned about!”

A few well earned miles later, our desicated hides drifted in to Agat Marina. Big celebrations ensued with our arrival as Evelyn and Martha presented us with fresh mangos, bananas, and eebac fruit that a local Chamorro had allowed them to pick from trees in his front yard.

Moses stumbled stiffly from the kayak, staggered to his wife, devoured the fruit, swallowed a few tablets of Alleve and discussed the need for a future back rub. I myself rolled awkwardly from my own boat and staggered toward my wife. A hug from Evelyn gave me the rather burning revelation that my sunscreen application had been somewhat inadequate earlier that day. I had become the proverbial red lobster. A victim of equatorial sun exposure ignorance. Ouch.

Several pints of Aloe later I found myself with Evelyn, Moses, and Martha in Chamorro Village devouring beef kelaguin, and drinking melon juice. Locals paused to stare at my red, blistering legs and forearms. Japanese tourists paused to take pictures but I requested they not use the flash. Me, I just burned, ached and smiled. Twenty miles for Beachwalk, a belly full of great Chamorro food, awesome Chamorro music, and just a small cup of Tuba by my side.

Tuesday March 25, 2008 – Trash, Springs and other things

2008-03-25T23:03:00.000-07:00

Tuesday March 25, 2008 – Trash, Springs and other things

Today, was still zero miles travelled but great progress was made. After an early morning swim in the bay I headed over to Underwater World to meet with a group of individuals from several organizations interested in starting a Waterkeeper Program in Guam.

After my twenty minute presentation about how a Waterkeeper program could be helpful here in Guam we moved into an open discussion which quickly revealed to me that perhaps my twenty minutes introduction was unneeded.

What soon became evident to me is that the watershed problems in Guam may have their own unique details but they do not stand unique in their stories. Many of the situations that Guam is facing today have been overcome by other Waterkeeper programs throughout the US and internationally.

Using these past situations as case studies for situations unique to Guam will empower concerned citizens with the information they need to win and resolve many of the issues with Guam’s watersheds.

I invite anyone concerned with the Watersheds in Guam to contact the education program at Underwater World or contact Waterkeeper Alliance (www.waterkeeper.org) directly to learn about the efforts being made in Guam to establish a Waterkeeper Office.

In the afternoon, the Beachwalk team visited nearby (well…everything is nearby in Guam) Asan and Agana Springs to learn more about problems they face in preserving these unique water resources and what is being done currently to revitalize them.

Not being an incredible biologist or scientist myself there was one problem common between both of these locations that I thought could be very quickly resolved. Trash! Trash is the first indicator of a community’s interest in pride and ownership in the quality of the environment where they work and play. Old cars, food wrappers, beverage cans and oil cans were present at both sites, and Asan springs in particular. It would be great to see some signs put up at Asan springs to suggest no dumping and no littering.
The trash we saw was not specific to any age group or culture. From Spam cans to old cars, it was everybody’s trash. It would be great to see everyone who lives in or visits Guam to take ownership in this beautiful island and work together to preserve it and to educate the next generation on what they can do to make it cleaner.

That evening on Peggy Denney’s radio program, “Where We Live.” we had an opportunity to thank the programs that are making a difference in Guam, including the student based, I-Recycle program which is gathering plastic and aluminum cans in Guam to raise money for Guam based schools. When compared to bottle bills (bottle deposit) these programs have proven to have much greater results and positive effects for communities nationwide. http://www.guampdn.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20080408/OPINION02/804080313

Monday March 24, 2008 – Errands, Hermits, Fruit bats and Kayaks

2008-03-24T22:25:00.001-07:00

Monday March 24, 2008 – Errands, Hermits, Fruit bats and Kayaks
(0 miles)

Some days are just destined to be errand days. After an early morning swim in Tumon Bay I regrouped with our team, hopped in the van and headed out to to meet with Steve Kasperbauer from Alupang Beach Club (ABC). We arrived to find the place ‘jam-pak’ with tourists wanting to get out on the water.

I quickly lost focus myself and started inquiring about other activities Alupang offers on the water. I filled my hands with pamphlets on Dolphin watching, Parasailing, and Underwater Eco-tours.

“Focus Bob.” said Evelyn. “Focus.”

“Right.” I said. “Back to work.”

Spotting a confused twenty something tourist with two cameras, flip-up sunglasses, oversized surf shorts, and white gobs of sunblock still oozing from the lobes of his ears; I walked up, smiled, handed him the pile of brochures and made towards the door.

“One day only.” I said over my shoulder. “Special price.”

The tourist held the brochures up to the light and examined them. Were they coupons? Did he miss a deal?

Across the parking lot I found the main offices for ABC and stepped in. I was greeted by comfortable air conditioning, a young salesman and another middle aged man from Pohnpei Islands who was there to buy some kayaks.

“Kayaks are an ideal resource for these islands.” Steve told me later. “I’d love to see schools use these crafts in intramural sports. It is an affordable, easy to learn craft that can be used in so many activities including scuba diving, fishing, racing, swimming or even commuting to work and grocery shopping in some of the island communities.”

Needless to say, Steve is excited about working with any group that is interested in using these kayaks for recreation or tranportation. He proved to be very supportive of the Beachwalk Project. Minutes after my arrival Steve popped in greeted me and the man from Pohnpei.

Asking the other man to wait a minute, he led me to a room filled with different kayaks, and kayaking accessories, handed me a brochure and said, “Pick out what you need.” Can you say candy store?

Hours later I had made my decision. No, really…it was hours later. I’m a slow thinker. Evelyn and the rest of the team were able to go have breakfast, rent diving gear and do some grocery shopping in the time it took me to pick out gear.

Steve was very patient and made arrangements with his crew to prepare the equipment for me to pick up later that evening.

That afternoon Evelyn went with her friend Martha to visit family while Beachwalk team member Moses and I drove down to the areas of Tarague and Ritidian Beach. These beaches proved to be the magical beaches that I had envisioned from Evelyn’s many stories of her island home. White beaches composed of washed up shells and coral, lined by massive cliffs, lush jungle and flanked by the hissing, rolling waves just beyond the shore line. Every local needs to see these beaches. These are the types of beaches that inspire legends. I could only imagine what they look like when the seas are stormy and a steady wind brings massive ocean swells crashing in on their narrow reefs.

At Ritidian I squatted down to take a photo of the horizon. Despite the seclusion of the beach;I had the uncanny feeling that I was being watched. After looking over my shoulders and seeing no-one; I looked down and was greeted by the probing eyes of a single hermit crab. As I continued to shoot my photo I realzed that he was not alone as nearly fifteen other crabs emerged from their shells and began migrating down the beach like a convoy of RV’ers. I wonder if they ever have races? Perhaps every so often they gather in a circle and have a bonfire. Or perhaps they invite each other over for a new shell warming party and a game of cards.

At the end of the day we visited Chris Bandy at the Guam National Wildlife Refuge and discussed another shelled creature which visits Guam’s shores from time to time, the sea turtle. We also discussed the efforts being made to protect habitat for the threatened and endangered populations of Marianas Fruit Bat and Marianas Crow.

Finally home at night I tucked in the new kayaks from ABC, sipped a small glass of the locally made coconut wine called ‘Tuba’ and quickly fell into dreams of dancing coconut crabs and singing sea-cucumbers. Ahhh Guam.

Sunday March 23, 2008 – Egg Hunts from chicken to basket

2008-03-23T20:34:00.000-07:00

Sunday March 23, 2008 – Egg Hunts from chicken to basket
(0 miles)

Sunday was an Easter Celebration-Chamorro Style. Moses and Martha Winston, also part of the Beachwalk Project invited us to Martha’s Family’s Easter Celebration near Dededo. Our team arrived uncharacteristically early at 2 in the afternoon to find that the party was not to happen until 4…awkward. Well, awkward anywhere else but Guam. The extra two hours were filled with conversation, sharing old stories and of course sampling some of the food destined to be part of the party. This included Octopus Kelaguin, Chicken Stefau, and one cannot forget the green papaya pickled in tuba (coconut vinegar-not the wine…that’s later).

Does it say something about Chamorro culture that the pickled papaya was stored in a container labeled ‘chocolate chip cookies’ and that the kids devoured the pickled treat like candy?

At about 4:30 cars began arriving and the small gathering soon grew to a fiesta of nearly fifty family members. I can’t begin to list the Chamorro dishes that arrived, but our team did our part to devour the corn chowder.

As the food settled, a traditional Easter Egg hunt ensued. Children sporting tiny Easter baskets scurried under cars, in bushes, up trees, and into eachother in search of hidden eggs. No chocolate sweets, no fancy prizes, no marshamallow, sticky, gewy or over marketed treats. Just simple, hard boiled eggs, laid by the many hens on the property and colored in crayon by the children themselves earlier that day.

There is something to be said about activities that we can follow from beginning to end. From the laying of the egg to the eventual hunt. This continuity creates a connection and greater appreciation for everything. Imagine if all of us personally caught our dinner from the sea, picked our vegetables from our garden, made our own vinegar from the coconuts or apples that grew on the property. Industrial farming puts food on our shelves but our connection, understanding and appreciation for the creation of that food is lost, disconnected and in many cases unhealthy.

A small island in the middle of the Pacific certainly has to import many items to satisfy modern demands for variety in consumer goods and foods. It is the things grown at the home, however, that prove to be the most genuine, most healthy and most Chamorro.

Saturday March 22, 2008 – Paddle like the locals do…well, sort of.

2008-03-23T15:18:00.000-07:00

Saturday March 22, 2008 – Paddle like the locals do…well, sort of.
Inarajan to Agat (20 miles)

When in Guam paddle like Guam. On Saturday we did our first miles for the circumnavigation of this incredible island.

Instead of our usual mode of travel I chose to paddle a 2 person outrigger canoe (OC2) and participate in Guam Kayak and Canoe Federation’s annual Eastside Relay which covers about 20 miles of Southeastern coastline starting from Inarajan Bay and ending up in Agat Bay.

Rick Appleton of the Federation was kind enough to let me crew on his OC2 with several women paddlers. I thought I had asked him to pass on the word requesting my crew members be easy on me. If this was ‘easy’ then I really need to get off the couch more often!

My first partner was a woman named Toni who proved to have a heart of a lion and the strength of a bear. We pushed out into the surf and followed some troughs for the 4 mile sprint. I enjoyed hyperventilating.

As we pulled into the first check point, I had just enough time to take a sip of water and dip my shirt into the water before Toni was replaced with Lalani Appleton, a petite Filipina 'drill sergeant'. The boat glided gracefully across the water as we surfed a modest swell through varying depths of coral shallows. I enjoyed the sting of salt in my eyes and paddling blindly while this quietly powerful woman kept us on course for the next 7 mile sprint. At some point the lure of the beautiful reef passing below us must have overwhelmed me and like an oafish, knuckle dragging gorilla I leaned a bit too far and hulied (capsized) us. Before the water even had time to penetrate my shirt we were back on board paddling.

“So that’s a hulie?” I asked.
Lalani politely chuckled then a short while later pointed out a rather large sting-ray gliding under the boat.
“Isn’t that beautiful?” she said. “You don’t want to land on one of them.”
I suspect she was ever so slightly encouraging me not to hulie again.

Pretending to be reluctant to do so I surrenderd my seat to Jenn, a 20 something year old rugby player from the local aquarium for the next 4 mile leg. Grabbing my small thermous of protein supplemented coffee I staggered onto the escort boat. "Whew"

Fully hydrated, caffienated, and filled with overdose levels of ibuprofen I hopped off the escort boat at the next checkpoint and waited for the OC2 to pull in. Another paddler stood on the beach waiting. Next to her was a small duffel bag filled with waterbottles, power gu and a large brown pill bottle that caught my eye.

"Whats in the bottle?" I asked
"Glucosomene…for the joints." she answered
She lifted the bottle out of the bag, unscrewed the cap and offered it to me.
"How many do you usually take?" I asked
"Two to four" she answered.
I took five.

My OC2 arrived just as the last remnants of the chalky glucosomene ball disolved in the back of my throat. The last leg, a nine mile sprint was going to be more relaxing, I thought, expecting that Jenn, a fairly new paddler would be accompanying me. Alas to my surprise Jenn debarked and in her place was Lalani again. Lifting her sunglasses for a moment I could see fire in her eyes as another OC2 with two young local bucks pulled in, grabbed some water and headed back out.

"Ready?" she said and lowered her glasses.
"Oh Cr**." was the reponse in my shoulders.

Inevitably the final leg was hot, and tiring but somewhere along the way I finally felt a sort of groove kick in. Not a fast or very well coordinated groove, mind you, but definately a groove. And a good enough of a groove to keep those local bucks at bay.

As we neared Agat bay for our final push of ‘speed’ a small pod of Dolphins glided past us, swimming effortlessly through the water without the aid of Power-gu, Gatorade, or Joint fuel. I think they were laughing. I can respect that.

Tomorrow, I am glad that it is Easter and in the name of my faith I can save face and take the day off.

Friday January 18, 2008 - Enjoy Explore and Protect

2008-01-18T21:41:00.000-08:00

Hood River, OR
Coming back from Beachwalk Atlantic coast after five months we found ourselves enjoying the closeness of projects at home. One major project was the construction of a small swimming pond with a bio-filter. Unable to fit a backhoe in our backyard, I shovelled the darn hole myself with pick and shovel. Ahh, the joy of simple grunt work.
By September we had a fully functioning pond, complete with bio-filter and native aquatic plants, thanks to some advice from a local perma-culturist. (www.gorgegrown.com)
As we sat by our firepit enjoying the pond, I realized something was missing, but could put my finger on what.
Two months later we were back in my hometown of Lake George, NY. Fueled by turkey, stuffing and some suspicious egg-nog a few of us in the family decided to take a dunk in the cool waters of the lake. Donning shorts, underwear, and goofy hats we took the plunge, screamed then scurried back to the bonfire.
There was something magic about the waters of Lake George we all agreed as we warmed our shivering bodies by the fire. Something magic about the water, or perhaps something seriously wrong with us. It is said in our land that once you enter the waters of Lake George it gets in your blood and you need to always come back to the source.
One week later we were back in Oregon. I stood over my new pond as Evelyn sat by the bonfire. Quietly I opened a bottle that I had filled with Lake George water. Ceremoniously I poured it into the pond.
"Now its complete." I said to myself.
Water is certainly magic.

Tuesday January 14, 2008 - Where America's Day Begins

2008-01-15T08:01:00.000-08:00

Hood River, OR
Cold sleet and 32 degrees Farenheit. I close my eyes and imagine sitting in my kayak in balmy 80 degree weather. I am in Guam. On March 20th I won't have to close my eyes, for we'll really be there. The original team of Stein, my wife Evelyn and I will be on the sandy shores of Guam, where America's day begins. It will mark the start of something that really began just less than a year ago as an idea somewhere off the coast of Georgia.
"Stein, what if we made this project more than just the Atlantic Coast?"
Despite the fact that we had just barely finished paddling the length of Florida and still had over 1000 miles to go to reach our destination in New York, I was feeling that the Beachwalk Project had to do more than just raise clean water awareness on the Atlantic Coast.
Stein, always open to new ideas and enthusiastically open to unrealistic ones, immediately began exploring our options. With each paddle stroke we tossed out possibilities, Coast of Africa, Alaska, Mediteranean, Black Sea, Greenland?
About two weeks later over dinner, I cautiously explored the idea with Evelyn. "Hey Evelyn, what if this project continued? What if next year we did the Pacific Coast or the Great Lakes with the same purpose?"
She paused for a moment, clutching a hot pepper and rice in her hand. She shook her head. "No." she said quickly stuffing the ball of rice and entire hot pepper into her mouth.
"But?"
Head shake from Evelyn, chew chew.
"But?"
Head shake, rice covered hand raising into the air with the 'talk to the hand' type gesture.
"What if?"
Her eyes and face become red and I can't tell if it is from the pepper, or frustration.
"Never mind." I sit back, and stare towards the sea imagining how awesome it would be to travel the coasts and talk to kids about protecting the water in their community. I feel so inspired by the sea, and the people we meet.
A mumble from Evelyn, and she catches my gaze. The redness has subsided in her face.
"Maybe." she says, "Maybe. But no matter what we start with GUAM first! We aren't doing anything until we do something for my home in Guam!"
Small island, big waves, coral reefs, big winds, typhoons surrounded by nothing but a big, big ocean? I think of the paddling. Would we be over our heads? Sure! But Stein loves unrealistic ideas, and so do I.
So now, nearly a year later since that conversation we make our final plans for Guam. Later this month Old Town Canoe and Kayak is sending our kayaks so we can begin training in the cold waters of the Pacific Ocean and the Columbia River. In March, through the generous support of Continental Airlines, our small team will be heading off to Guam for the first leg of a three year venture that, if all goes well will cover all the major coasts of the United States.
Until then, the sleet falls outside and I close my eyes and imagine I hear breaking of waves on a warm, sandy beach.

Thursday June 7, 2007 – Day – 93 - Our Final Day

2007-06-12T08:24:00.000-07:00

Thursday June 7, 2007 – Day – 93 - Our Final Day
Liberty State Park – Pier A, Manhattan (2 miles, Round trip)
Unable to accept June 6th as the final day of the Beachwalk Project, we have delayed our arrival to Manhattan to today, June 7th which happens to be my father’s birthday. Fully energized with a pastrami sandwich from a Jersey City diner, I meet Kermit, Stein and our friend Jen outside my parents’ hotel at 6:00 AM. Although only a seven mile commute, our Jersey City navigation skills gets us back to Liberty State Park nearly thirty minutes later. Crossing three different bridges during our adventure, we explore the idea of the Bridgecross Race , which would be an anything goes bike race that starts in Central park and requires you to cross every bridge in NYC. One would have to be a master of traffic jam, mileage, toll and weather logistics. Swimming across rivers with bikes overhead would be permitted if deemed faster than fighting traffic.
Excited by the fuscia toned light still warming the Statue of Liberty, we prepare and board our kayaks quickly. Jen accompanies us and takes photos as we pass close to the white, restricted area buoys lining the perimeter of the statue. A silent but fast current quietly pulls her out into the channels close to the Staten Island ferry. Jen develops new levels of patience and persistence as she paddles back to Liberty State Park against the stubborn current.
With Jen safely en-route to the shoreline, Stein and I turn and begin our sprint to Manhattan and back. Passing behind Ellis Island we discuss immigration policy, and economic opportunity in America. I consider how environmental and employment policy have made it challenging for companies to continue to operate manufacturing facilities in the United States. Often it is difficult to see the benefit of sacrificing short term gains for a positive long term economic and environmental legacy. Pro-active environmental policy and participation depends on communicating the long term positive economic benefits and the potential economic cost of poor environmental policy.
Dodging current, high speed ferries, the Circle Fine ferry, and several barges Stein and I weave our way across the Hudson River to Pier A. We are greeted by Frank Wood Spavento on a blow horn. Bouncing with the waves I attach a bookmark to my paddle and hand it up to him past the six foot high bulkhead.
“Read it.” I say. Frank, a rock legend and entertainer by trade, does a little more than requested (as New Yorkers are prone to do). Turning on the blow horn he improvises from information on the bookmark and calls out, “Ladies and gentlemen, I have the pleasure of introducing the Beachwalk Project. All the way from Miami, Stein Kretsinger and Robert Weinman have paddled and walked over sixteen hundred miles to raise awareness and to encourage support for Waterkeeper Alliance and everyone’s right to clean water. Let’s welcome them to Pier A and New York City!”
Stein and I give each other a thumbs up, excited by the spontaneous fanfare from Ray. Unfortunately, the captive crowd, (who are mostly waiting for the next ferry) show no enthusiasm at all.
“Well,” I start, “If the crowd won’t come to us, then we’ll come to the crowd. Encouraged by Frank we climb out of our kayaks, up the bulkhead and into the crowd. Reaching into my pocket, I hand out the remaining bookmarks that I have for the trip. Perhaps desensitized by the constant urban barrage of information, coupons, and handouts; the tourists, teachers, and children all seem unconcerned, unimpressed or uninspired by the feat we have finally completed. Of Anger, Apathy and Ignorance, apathy is the greatest weapon against creative, collaborative solutions. I find it ironic, that these visitors, although excited to visit the Statue of Liberty have missed the point that Liberty and Democracy can only be possible when people stay informed and get involved.
Lowering ourselves back down a slippery ladder, Stein and I slide back into our kayaks and quietly paddle back to Liberty State Park listening to the tunes of a solitary steel drummer on the pier. We both agree the world needs the enthusiasm of more Frank Wood Spaventos.
Returning to the park, our welcoming party is small, consisting of my mother and father and Jen, who is still sleeping in the cockpit of our guest kayak. Awarding both Stein and I with foam Statue of Liberty crowns, my mother congratulates us on our achievement. My father shakes our hands and says, “You fellas should be proud. It’s a good thing you’ve done and you’ve done it well.” I feel inspired by his words and I think to myself. “I’m not quite done yet.” I may be done paddling, but my family and I are just getting started on the adventure of protecting clean water.

Wednesday June 6, 2007 – Day – 92 – Environmental Stewardship and Marshmallows

2007-06-12T08:22:00.000-07:00

Wednesday June 6, 2007 – Day – 92 – Environmental Stewardship and Marshmallows
Sandy Hook – Liberty State Park (13 miles)
Morning: It is 7:00 am and I sit here waiting for Ray Fusco at Liberty State Park in full view of the Statue of Liberty. If all goes well we will end up here with our kayaks this afternoon. I hold in my hand a Sacajawea coin dollar given to me as change from the clerk at the toll booth this morning. Looking at this iconic Native American guide while sitting in the shadow of our own iconic woman of liberty I think of the historical cultural differences between the New American and Native American perspective of mans’ relationship with the environment and land. Before me stands the skyline of Manhattan, purchased from the Native Americans for a small amount of trade items. The reason for the ridiculously low price was directly related to the Native American’s belief that land cannot be owned. In their eyes they were receiving trade plunder in return for nothing. For the next few centuries the concept of land ownership became the greatest threat to the Native American.
Today the concept of land ownership has become one of the greatest threats to the environment. Large land developers feel compelled to maximize return on their land investments often at the cost of considering responsible or sustainable development. Corporate land owners use land for storing and dumping hazardous by-products. Small private land owners choose landscaping that compromises the native ecology. The concept of land ownership seems to imply that if you own it, you may do with it as you want.
Ironically the Native Americans were right. Ownership, as permanent as it sounds is ultimately only temporary. Land owners sell, lose or die and the land again becomes public domain. Effectively, we are borrowing land from future generations just as previous generations borrowed from us. Regardless of duration we are all temporary stewards of a permanent resource. What do you want future generations to inherit from you?

Evening: It has been said that nothing in New York comes easy. Today did not disappoint. Feeling extra confident with our guide, Ray Fusco, we waved goodbye to our good friend Jen at Sandy Hook beach at 10:00 AM. Settling into the rhythm of our paddle strokes, Ray reviewed a well sequenced course for the morning that would take us safely across several major shipping channels while providing us maximum benefit from a building in-flow with the expected high tide at 1:00 pm. Fortunately nature was there to humble us again. Despite Ray’s careful planning and a promising weather forecast, nature decided to give us an unwelcome companion for the crossing. This companion, which boarded all three of our vessels, was a rather robust northwest wind.
“Try to sequence your paddle strokes to allow you to paddle down the backside of the waves.” shouted Ray above the din of the 15-20 knot wind.
“Try to take more ibuprofen in the morning.” shouted my back muscles.
A short lighthouse winked at us as we crossed the Asbury channel and angled our boats on a more Northwest vector. White caps began drumming on my weather beaten, and slightly leaky sea skirt and I asked Ray if there was a technique to reduce splash on the deck. The smile on his face was answer enough.
Ahead of us a small section of the city skyline seemed to drift into the channel below the Verazano bridge.
“Okay,” started Ray in a methodic, calm voice, “we have our first ship preparing to come down the channel”
“Ship?” I thought, “That thing is bigger than my hometown! Can we be more accurate and call it a small island?”
We headed slightly west outside the channel and watched with marvel as the tanker pushed a massive 15 foot standing wave ahead of its bow. Although daunted by the scale of this technology I was humbled by the fact that the seas have on many occasions submitted even the greatest of these massive tankers.
Pushing through chop and blasts of wind we entered the wind shadow of a small fishing beach southwest of the Verazano bridge. Plastic bottle caps and stir sticks outnumbered grains of sand on this secluded retreat.
“So…most of this debris comes from storm drains?” asked Stein as he unwrapped his peanut butter, jelly and marshmallow sandwich (a new culinary creation from Beachwalk Project).
Ray agreed but then pointed out that a large portion of the trash did not display the telltale weathering from traveling down storm drains. “These relatively unblemished pieces of trash are left here by people.” Ray pointed out that people are more likely to litter if they already see trash. Litter breeds more litter. Ray was not impressed by the marshmallow innovation with his sandwich. In trade, I provided him my reserve standard issue PBJ (without Marshmallow).
After the short lunch we pushed on for what Ray described as the more ‘active’ portion of our planned aquatrek. Passing under the Verazano bridge we entered a landscape distorted by ‘progress’. Massive tankers lined shores of steel and concrete. The wind pattern of waves dissolved into chaotic tumbling boat chop reverberating off shores and structures. Cries of seagulls were replaced with the drone of diesel motors and thunder of airplanes and helicopters. I call Stein on the cell phone to pull him back in formation as he is lured away from our pack for a closer look at the massive tankers moored along our route. The rhythm of our paddling is broken as we pause at channel crossings to make way for the zig-zag migration of fast moving ferries, tired tugboats, and corpulent containerships. In the dim distance I can finally see the raised hand of Lady Liberty. Standing still and oblivious she appears to me as an ignorant child stuck in the middle of a busy street, holding her ice cream high above her head to protect it from collision with the fast moving vehicles.
It is now 2:30 pm and Stein paddles with curbed frustration wanting to explore more, but aware that our crew is now in a race against headwind and the coming threat of a changing tidal current outflow. We have worked for so many months to reach this point and now we are rushed.
“All the more reason why adventure is learning to enjoy the voyage and not just the destination.” I think to myself.
In one last fleeting moment Stein proposes that our team paddles around the Statue of Liberty rather than taking the direct line it to the shores of Liberty State Park. Considering my waiting family, the changing currents and our pace I am not inspired by his proposal.
“Tomorrow is supposed to be still and calm.” suggests Ray still eager to provide us the best possible experience while in his home turf of NY Harbour. “I suggest, if you can, to come back here early tomorrow morning.”
The promise of still water, low angle light and low boat traffic confirms the proposal for Stein and I. With renewed vigor and no more boat traffic to compromise my pace, I sprint towards the shoreline. 100 yards offshore I spy my family. I turn back to find Stein far behind me. He is not eager to see the project come to a close and procrastinates with his pace. I am reminded of all our adventures together in the past four months and suddenly I feel the same melancholy. The adventure is coming to a close. Ray looks back and I give him the thumbs up indicating that he can sprint ahead without us. The Northwest wind quickly blows me back towards Stein. We talk very little but our paddle strokes clearly state our reluctance to end the adventure.
“Tomorrow.” starts Stein. “Let’s come back early tomorrow morning to paddle past the statue and touch Manhattan.”
I quickly agree. “Five AM?”
“Four thirty.” replies Stein.
Minutes later we’re on shore. We are greeted and cheered by the modest crowd of Ray, Jen, my parents and a few fishermen. No media. No bands. No politicians. The Beachwalk Project has come to an end as quietly as it started. I look on the pebble beach covered with monofilament line, beverage bottles and car parts. 1600 miles of shore? Did we influence anyone? Will any of those children take a leadership role in protecting the water quality in their communities? I think of the silent work that Waterkeeper programs do worldwide to protect our right to clean water. When it comes to protecting our water, noise and fanfare are not important, action is.

Tuesday June 5, 2007 – Day – 91: Final days and sleepless nights

2007-06-05T21:33:00.000-07:00

Tuesday June 5, 2007 – Day – 91
Long Branch – Sandy Hook (12 miles)
11:30 pm and I can’t sleep. Tomorrow is the final day. I feel excited and sad at the same time. The crossing to the statue and completing this particular goal for our project is of course very exciting. The end of the paddling and the end of daily surprises in the ocean however makes me increasingly sad.
I came to realize one measure of success for the project only accidentally today. At the start of this project we printed 5000 laminated bookmarks with information about the project and Waterkeeper Alliance. Our plan was to hand these out to people that we met on the beach in an effort to raise awareness for clean waters. Today when I went to retrieve more of the bookmarks to distribute at Liberty State park tomorrow, I realized that we only had about two hundred left. This means that over 4500 people received one of these bookmarks. Assuming that each of these people shared this information with at least 3 family members or friends, that would translate into 13,000 people learning more about Beachwalk Project, Waterkeeper Alliance and what it takes to keep our waters clean. What will these 13,000 people do with this new information? Will they forget about it? Or will they put it into action and get involved in their community and do what it takes to protect our right to clean water?
Today was interesting in the variety of people and events it offered. We unloaded our kayaks from the car about 7 am and began walking along the beach walk for Long Branch. I remained busy handing out bookmarks to joggers, bicyclists, and city employees. Our friend Jen photographed our progress as Stein scouted out a public restroom for us both before we put into the kayaks for the day. This, needless to say is a very important responsibility.
After having found a reasonable restroom, we watched the surfers ride some impressive waves while we prepared our kayaks on the beach. Seeing the crash of the 7 foot faces, I moved reluctantly. Saying a quick prayer we headed into the deep blue. Stein was first, got pushed back several times by about 4 different, frothing waves, but managed to get out beyond the breakers. I got lucky. Convincing myself to wait for the first surfer to go down a wave, I waited impatiently then paddled nervously out past the surfers and the breakers. I was fast, but quiet as a thief, hoping no waves might notice me and try to thwart my plans for getting offshore.
The wind was nonexistent so kite flying was not an option. (Although Stein tried on three different occasions to launch his kite). We paddled hard, enjoying the nudge of the surf which, coming out of the Southwest was helping us along. About two hours into the paddle we decided to come ashore and walk the last beach we would be able to. Stein was the candidate for power-washing today as he was tumbled over three times in a series of waves that snuck up on him during his exit to shore.
“That’s Okay” I told an on-looking lifeguard. “This is the only way we can get him cleaned up an hosed down…It would be helpful if it happened more often.”
Despite some contention about landing water craft on the Sandy Hook beach, we worked through that quite quickly with the local lifeguards and headed on our way, handing out our bookmarks as we walked. After about ten minutes of walking I could see a crowd of children and a big yellow school bus. We snuck up behind a teacher and offered to give a presentation. She was thrilled. The guided portion of their original field trip had been cancelled so we presented an opportunity to salvage the educational opportunity for the field trip.
The kids enjoyed our presentation and they all signed the boat after the presentation. The instructors walked away happy that their students had learned something new about the environment.
Continuing along our way, we had another one of our mystery moments. Looking in the distance in the past had sometimes rewarded us with discoveries of wild horses, large birds and even lemurs. “What is that ahead?” I asked Stein
“I think…” replied Stein, “That …is …a man.”
“A man with a very small bathing suit?” I asked.
“No…” replied Stein as we moved closer, “That is a man….with no pants at all.”
Indeed his observation was confirmed as we read a nearby sign confirming that we had entered a specific region of the beach where we could possibly ‘encounter nude sunbathers’. Stein and I passed through rather quickly and unfortunately were just a wee bit too shy to hand out our bookmarks.
Tomorrow will indeed be another day of surprises. We look forward to it. Now…I will try to get some sleep.

Sunday May 6, 2007 – Day 61 – Ban Bombs for Beautiful Beaches

2007-05-07T18:41:00.001-07:00

Sunday May 6, 2007 – Day 61 – Ban Bombs for Beautiful Beaches
Ft. Macon – Emerald Isle (17 miles)
As we enter the land of winds we find our initial travel plans thwarted. The winds near Cape Lookout have increased to a sustained 20 knots with gust up to 35.
“Wind seems a bit squirrelly for the kites and kayaks.” I mention to Stein.
He purses his lips, scratches his chin and offers a solution, “I reckon it might be a good opportunity for land based travel.”
Our new acquisitions from Myrtle Beach, Princess and PT offer us new hope for our travel goals.
Princess, or Disney Princess comes from a thrift store where Stein purchased her for a whopping twenty dollars. She is a purple BMX bike designed for little girls standing about three foot tall and weighing in at about sixty pounds. With a few modifications to the seat post length the ‘little bike that could’ transports my 5’6” 165 pound frame with the greatest of ease. The nice thing about Princess is that she stows away in the cockpit of our guest kayak with no problem.
PT Cruiser or PT as we call him is an adult size beach cruiser co-branded with the Chrysler PT Cruiser name. His most distinguished markings are the flames emblazoned on his rusty chrome fenders. Stein found this proud 2 wheeler abandoned in the bushes and rusting before his time. Two cans of WD-40 (what is in that stuff really?) some twists of the Allen Wrench and PT was back in action.
Driving down to the Food Lion Grocery in Emerald Isle we are reunited with Vanna White and our two bikes. We throw them on the roof of Kermit and ferry them up to Ft. Macon.
Ft. Macon, built in 1862 is a civil war relic that also served during the Spanish American and WWII wars. I find the site fascinating. Although portions of the fort have been restored and fitted with museum exhibits, it is the original chambers and empty alcoves that intrigue me. Entering one such chamber I find that it is connected to the remaining chambers through narrow, arched passageways. In the shadows I imagine the life and history that has passed between these cold brick walls. The construction of the fort is exemplary of the best technology of its time. The armaments were the most powerful and innovative of their time. I think about the expense. I think about the amount of money, time and resources expended on our current war. It is an obvious and over-used example, but I still can’t help but speculate what could be done for the benefit of others and the environment if we could divert just a small portion of those resources to the protection of our environment.
Stein and I hop on our bikes. With the wind at our backs, we roll with ease toward our destination in Emerald Isle. For about three miles we travel on the beach. Sand, Wind and Water all move together. The sun tucks behind squadrons of clouds as they stack on top of each other over the horizon. The wind invigorates our enthusiasm for this trip and the beauty of the beach.

Saturday May 5, 2007 – Day 60 – Dancing Seafood

2007-05-07T18:38:00.000-07:00

Saturday May 5, 2007 – Day 60 – Dancing Seafood
Emerald Isle – North Topsail beach (27 miles)
Needing a little date night, last night Evelyn and I explored New Bern for some seafood and dancing. Crab cakes and coffee at Captain Natty’s primed us for the evening and we danced to 1:00 AM at the Sheraton.
In the morning as Evelyn snoozed Stein and I wake with the bass fishermen and leave the Bridgepointe Hotel at 5:00 am. Stein drives as I make peanut butter sandwiches in the back of the van.
Arriving at Emerald Isle and parking at a Food Lion grocery store Stein and I say farewell to Vanna and tow our trusty kayaks through a new housing development to gain access to beach. The winds are still but the sea presents us with a friendly caravan of 2-4 foot high swells that just happen to be heading our way. The beaches here in North Carolina seem to be a tad steeper than those of Georgia and South Carolina and pushing through four foot waves breaking directly on the beach is a bit challenging. During his initial launch Stein finds himself suddenly facing backwards into the oncoming waves. That’s awkward. Eventually, two sea crusted travelers, Stein and I, join the wave pilgrimage South towards North Topsail Beach. The waves, our traveling companions, nudge us along as we paddle. “The ocean seems friendly today.” says Stein as his boat is surfs forward on a rising swell.
Despite grey skies I feel giddy reminiscing about some of our first days at the start of this voyage. Prior to this project Stein and I were very much novice kayakers. The depth of my experience had been a four day paddle in the San Juan Islands over eight years ago. Stein had paddled a few times more than that, but we were both relying on the promise of ‘on the job training’. Somewhere during our 1600 mile journey we expected we would become more proficient kayakers.
During our first week on the project Stein and I paddled beyond the surf to practice rescue and roll techniques we had seen on the internet. “The motion is something like this…” said Stein as he waved his paddle through the air to demonstrate how the roll would be executed. Not intending to actually do a roll Stein looked at me wide eyed with the sudden realization that he was going over. In the flash of a second Stein and his spooked face were replaced with the blue bottom of his boat and a pair of flailing hands. I nudged the bow of my boat close to his hands for what I now know is called a T- Rescue, but the hands had already disappeared and Stein’s shocked face emerged from the water next to his boat.
“Well.” He said somewhat out of breath, “Fortunately we have about 130 days to practice that.”
“Yup.” I replied, “I reckon we’ll have that wired by the time we get to Maine.”
“We’re not going to Maine.” said Stein
“Right.” I replied.
For the next hour that day we lowered our expectations and practiced wet exits and getting back into our boats in deep water.
Today, nearly three months later, as we paddle about ½ a mile offshore, a steep six foot sneaker wave passes under me. Stein disappears behind the wave and I can hear a muffled roar as it and breaks on him. He emerges on the back of the frothing wave, wet but grinning. “Another fine example of the high brace.” He says.
Later in the morning we find an observation tower on Ft. Juneman Island and we climb it. From the top Stein films me as I paddle out into the breakers and then surf them back into shore. Viewing the video later, I am impressed by how quickly my large kayak and I are dwarfed by the landscape and waves. “The ocean…can be big.” Stein once said. Viewing the video I can appreciate how small we are when compared to the landscape. I come to the realization that we are not protecting the environment for the benefit of the earth. The earth, big as it is, will continue to spin long after we are gone. We are protecting the environment for us and our own survival. I wonder if most people realize that.

Friday May 4, 2007 – Day 59 – Spiritual Self and Street Surfing

2007-05-07T18:35:00.000-07:00

Friday May 4, 2007 – Day 59 – Spiritual Self and Street Surfing
North Topsail Beach – Surf City (11 miles)
Today was one of those challenging, character building days. Perhaps exhaustion is hitting us but we all seem to hit a virtual emotional wall today and quarrel more than cooperate. Our hosts, Paula and Gordon are leaving for Kitty Hawk today for a surf kayak competition and the Beach Walk Team is faced with some miles to achieve before next weekend and no plans for places to stay for the next five days. Normally this would not be a challenge but we have friends coming up to visit, limited access to the area we need to paddle and many miles to cover. Early in the morning Stein and I sprint down to Carolina Yacht club to retrieve Kermit, our Ford Escape Hybrid. Evelyn has a breakfast made when we return and the three of us get on the internet and phone to gather information and find accommodations for the next few days. After an hour we are faced with little success. We grumble amongst each other for a bit then after some deliberation we decide to leave it up to God and wing it. We drive to north Topsail where we leave Kermit for our North to South run on Saturday. To save time on Saturday we decide to complete the miles today between North Topsail and Surf City. The fastest solution is our bikes but my bike, now named, Princess has a flat. Five tries and thirty minutes later we find the four dollar bike pump from Wal-Mart to be useless in solving our situation.
“How ‘bout some road surfing?” suggests Stein. I’m grumpy and reject the idea.
Evelyn frowns and says “Whatever…I need to eat…” She heads to the back of the van to find some food.
I try the bike pump two more times with no success. Tempted to throw the useless bike pump into the woods, I pause for patience. I try to reach for my higher spiritual self.
Pump gripped tightly under my white knuckles, I look up to find Evelyn and Stein staring at me.
“I think we need to pray for patience.” says Stein.
We all agree and take a moment. My grip on the pump relaxes and the phone rings.
Stein and I dip carrots into peanut butter as Evelyn chats on the phone.
Putting the bike pump down, I begin to make Peanut Butter sandwiches as Evelyn hangs up.
“That was Gary from the Bridge Pointe Hotel.” she announces. A smile comes across her face. “He’s donating a room for three nights!”
Putting the peanut butter down I do a little jig. Evelyn looks up in the sky and says a little thankyou. Stein reaches for the skateboard and says…“Lets get these miles.”
Taking turns Stein and I use the bike to pull each other on the skateboard. Surfing pavement for 12 miles we practice our grabs, carves and one-legged stands on the board amidst traffic. We are unsure if the honks are for encouragement or suggestions to get off the road. Somehow we don’t care either way.

Saturday, April 21, 2007 – Day 46 – East Coast Kayak FestivalJames Island Campground (0 miles)

2007-04-24T09:36:00.000-07:00

Saturday, April 21, 2007 – Day 46 – East Coast Kayak FestivalJames Island Campground (0 miles)
Thanks to Michael of James Island Campground and Danielle and Josh; Stein, Evelyn and I were participants in the 17th annual East Coast Canoe and Kayak Festival. The three day event which took place at James Island State Park included vendors and celebrity paddlers from around the nation. H2O outfitters from Maine gave hosted clinics for rescue, roll, and introduction to paddling. Our team made great connections with paddlers along the entire Atlantic coast.

Following our presentation on Friday night we listened as Ken Fink retold the epic Featherlight expedition through Polynesia which included some near fatal situations over one hundred miles offcoast.

The entertainment for Saturday evening included canoe dancing, traditional Green Island kayaking from Featherlight, Winged paddle demonstrations from Epic Kayaks and one legged kayak stands from Nigel Foster of Nigelkayaks.com. Nigel was unable to explain the importance of one-legged kayak stands as it applies to off-shore kayaking but Stein and I are working diligently to perfect this move. Thanks Nigel.

We also established a new relationship with Gaia Paddle Sports (www.GAIAPaddlesports.com) who provided us with some excellent drybags for the remainder of our voyage.

Overall the event was extremely encouraging for the Beach Walk Project. During our venture, we have found that paddlers are an exceptional group of people who share a common love of the water and our environment.

Monday April 23, 2007 – Day 48 – History and challenges uniting communities

2007-04-23T21:22:00.000-07:00

Monday April 23, 2007 – Day 48 – History and challenges uniting communities
Folly Beach Pier – Isle of Palms (13 miles)
Today our team put in at Folly Beach and finished an easy paddle just past the fishing pier at Isle of Palms. The most stirring event was the realization that I had forgotten our daily coffee/protein drink mix. A short walk down the coastal street with kayaks in tow led us to convenient store coffee and an interesting conversation with the cashier.
Stein and I had learned in the past few days that gated communities and plantations could sometimes make beach access an inconvenient challenge. The closed communities of Hilton Head and Kiawah Island had both prohibited our access to the beach. Fortunately, the security guards were helpful enough to direct us to public beach access and the Holiday Inn at Hilton Head was very supportive by providing us a parking space for our escort vehicle for two days. Plagued with plantation paranoia; Stein and I were concerned that Isle of Palms may also be a restricted access beach.
“Excuse me.” Stein asked the cashier, “Can you tell me if Isle of Palms is a gated community?”
“Oh no.” she said, “You don’t want to go there. It ain’t no fun there. Those people are all full of themselves.”
“Say again?” asked Stein.
”They’re all stuck up. Not like Folly Beach here. This beach is for everyone.”
Considering a possible landmark that we could use so Evelyn could easily find us, I asked, “Do they have a fishing pier near there?”
“Oh no.” she replied, “This is the best fishing pier in the area. Burnt down in ’74…arson you know, but they built it back. Best pier in the area.”
As we paddled to Isle of Palms, I imagined how the residents might be. Would they allow us on their beach? Would they stare us down with our funny boats and disheveled, soggy, salty duds?
Stein and I paddled quietly past historical Ft. Sumter and the leaning monolyth of the Charleston lighthouse. I considered the long and turbid history shared among Folly Beach, Isle of Palms and Charleston.
Four hours later we paddled past the Isle of Palms pier (they did have a pier) and pulled our boats out. The beach combers were equally as welcoming as on any other beach and the public beach access was a cinch.

Perhaps on the surface the communities of Isle of Palms and Folly Beach are unique in their personalities. On a much deeper level the residents of both communities share a common thread. Both have an affinity for the coast. Both have a love of sunrises over distant horizons that frame a sea bountiful with life. This is what BeachWalkProject is about. To unite communities to protect the ocean and rivers they love. This is what Waterkeeper Alliance does.

Sunday, April 22, 2007 – Day 47 – Sunday Evening a quiet pond

2007-04-23T21:21:00.000-07:00

Sunday, April 22, 2007 – Day 47 – Sunday Evening a quiet pond
Kiawah – Folly Beach (12 miles)
Despite the great company at the East Coast Kayak Festival, our team felt pressured to put in some miles. Packing up our vehicles we headed out at 11:00 am to Beachwalker Park on Kiawah Island. Walking for the first half hour to stretch our legs, Stein and I found the folks at Beachwalker Park very helpful and curious about our project.
Curiosity is opportunity for both us and the people asking. As I walked today I wondered how I would react if I saw two bedraggled paddlers wheeling their crafts down the beach. Would I be curious enough to come in from in the surf and ask what they were doing or would I let another opportunity pass me by? How about you? If you saw us walking by, would you ask what we’re up to? Would you get involved? Would you step out today and support any organization that is working hard to better the environment that you work and play in?
The north end of Kiawah is marked by a sand spit that reaches its arm far into the ocean. Stein and I paddled ashore to shortcut across the spit with our wheels. To our surprise we found a tidal pond behind the spit. Pelicans, Egrets, and Seagulls greeted us to their private paradise. Collecting a few sand dollars, Stein and I dropped back into the water to cross the inlet between Kiawah and Folly Beach. Dolphins swam with us against the outgoing tide, collecting their afternoon supper. I considered the experience of existing as an air breathing mammal in an atmosphere of H2O. Dolphins, Manatees and Whales remain visitors in their own world. Imagine a parallel experience for humans. Imagine having to climb above the clouds every time you need to breath. Dependent on the quality of air and water, these animals are especially sensitive to the conditions of both environments.

Thursday, April 19, 2007 – Day 44 – Wind, Waves and Winding Watersheds lead to ParaDice

2007-04-20T08:39:00.000-07:00

Thursday, April 19, 2007 – Day 44 – Wind, Waves and Winding Watersheds lead to ParaDice
Edisto Beach – ‘Lost’ – Russ Point (22 miles)
Edisto Beach hosts a promenade of charming beachside cottages along the barrier dune. Despite their charming character these minor structures present the same problem as the twenty story buildings in Florida. Positioned directly on the beach, the buildings remain threatened by storms and the constant movement typical of a barrier island. The architecture of stilt foundations testifies to this problem as do the various efforts to minimize the reduction of the beach. Sandcastles remain the most charming and practical structure on the beach.

Our crossing was a nearly seven mile stretch across the St. Helene Sound from Edisto to Hunting Island. A Northeast wind kicked up seas of 4-6 feet which made the crossing at high tide a bit interesting. Most striking was the final approach into Hunting Island. Tidal surge meeting a river outflow created standing waves that enjoyed lifting our kayaks and spinning them. A little uncomfortable.

Pulling our kayaks up on the north beach of Hunting Island we were greeted by a home owner named Ellen and her two minature dogs. Ellen, a former science teacher from Connecticut and a present saint to tidal tossed travellers, invited us in her kitchen for hot coffee, pecan rolls and happy conversation. We swapped stories of the local ecology, travel and good books for about forty five minutes and then Stein and I, leaving behind small saltwater puddles on her kitchen floor, headed back out to the bay. With a cheery wave we ambled under the bridge and under the sail of our kayak kites headed into a labarynth of oyster beds that would consume the ramainder of our day.

Many swampy dead-ends later we took an old pelican’s advice, u-turned and headed back out of the bay via the channel between Fripp and Hunting Island. Our day was enhanced by a quick stop on a remote Hammock to stretch our legs and clean some cuts Stein received walking on the Oyster beds for surveying our position. The hammock was a welcome Paradice for the vexed travellers and gave us time on stable land to consume what tasty vittles remained in our boats.

Our total effective miles was ten, while our total travelled miles, including the backtracking exceeded 24 miles. Meeting Evelyn and our friend Jen with the van at Russ Point boat ramp, we collected our conch shells, some shrimp from a local shrimper and called it a day with a buffet of fresh seafood and salad.

Friday, March 30, 2007 – Day 24 – How not to sneak up on a mermaid

2007-03-31T00:30:00.001-07:00

Friday, March 30, 2007 – Day 24 – How not to sneak up on a mermaid
Ponce Inlet – High Bridge (27 Miles) Reversed?
Listening to some game fishers we found a great place to camp on the Intercoastal. Checking the marine forecast and a prediction for North / Northeast winds, we decided to work with Mother Nature instead of against and launched our kayaks into the intercoastal from where we were parked and sail South to Ponce Inlet. The kites went up immediately. We made excellent time and began passing under several large causeway bridges. On the third bridge Stein’s kite ditched for one of the beams, became tangled and he cut the line. While he retrieved his kite from the water, I sailed on to the next bridge, which was the older style drawbridge. What is unique about travel with kite power is that we rarely paddle unless we’re surfing the waves. Without the noise of the paddles we travel silently on stealth mode and sneak up on pods of dolphins and jumping Jacks. Just as I received a fresh puff of air outside the shadow of the causeway a blowhole emerged just starboard of my bow. A quick look and I could tell it was the fleshy proboscis of a less than small manatee. I was transfixed as his massive back rolled out of the water and he prepared to dive back in to munch on sea grass salad. Expecting the tail to show any second I relized this manateewas more massive than I had anticipated and I realized we were going to collide. I motioned to paddle backwards, but no paddle. “Sorry pal” I said “we are to experience some turbulence.”
‘BONK’ the boat nudged his back.
‘THWACK’ the massive mammal panicked, plunged and thwacked his tail for turbo boost. The tail lifted the bow of my kayak and dropped it.
‘SPLASH’
No propellor marks, just an exciting moment for both of us. I can now fully understand how vulnerable these animals are to boat traffic. Considering their territory and the amount of traffic on the Intercoastal, I can only liken their living situation to placing your house and yard in the middle of a highway.

Thursday, March 29, 2007 – Day 23 – Powerwash or Baptism?

2007-03-30T23:55:00.002-07:00

Thursday, March 29, 2007 – Day 23 – Powerwash or Baptism?
Bethune Beach – Ponce Inlet (11 Miles)
Today was the first day back on the water in almost two weeks. After a seven hour plane ride to Miami, and a three hour drive up to Melbourne, we took about three hours sleep and then started back where we left off at Bethany Beach. Despite ample coffee and a peanut butter sandwhich for breakfast, I felt a bit weak. It was our first day back on the ocean side in almost three weeks and I had forgotten how much I respect the open sea. After gearing up, Stein and I paused for a brief moment for a prayer and some silence. The thunder of crashing waves killed the silent part and added purpose to our prayers. Inching on our knuckles we nudged our kayak prostrated bodies to the ocean like two overfed sea lions. Stein made the sprint first. The water was exceptionally shallow, the beach had little pitch and the waves were significant, breaking almost 300 yards offshore. I started in just after him and the going was rather smooth in the first three sets of waves. About 300 yards out I paused for a wave to break and then paddled fiercely to crest the white water. As I neared the crest I discovered the wave’s brother just behind him and swelling up to a vertical wall. It was clear that this wave had no plans of breaking before passing me, so I paddled forward reluctantly. Like an amusement park ride, the nose of my kayak rose to meet the vertical wall as my stern dug deep below the water at the base of the wave. I pitched my head forward to meet the deck but didn’t have to move far as the deck was already coming up to meet me. You know you are in a sticky situation when the nose of your boat is passing over your head. Capsized and caught up in the surf of the steep wave I involuntarily performed three, wave assisted eskimo rolls as the foam pitched my boat repeatedly ove until I finally called it quits, pulled on my skirt to release it and bailed.

I had been powerwashed. I drifted in, drained my boat and headed back out. This time I prayed more, and paddled faster. This time there was no vertical wave waiting for me, just Stein with a big ole smile.
“Need some soap with that wash?”
How big the ocean can seem with very little effort. How easy it is for us to be swallowed, chewed and spit out by the smallest of the ocean’s waves. “Nothing personal” says the Ocean, “I would hae done that wave whether you were there or not. I’m just doing my thing and you happened to be in the way.” I think I’ve heard the mountains say this once or twice too.

Thursday, March 22, 2007 – Smart kids

2007-03-30T23:55:00.001-07:00

Thursday, March 22, 2007 – Smart kids
While on break Evelyn and I had the great opportunity to visit with my son’s 3rd grade class and share with them the story of our adventure so far. They proved to know more about sea creatures than we did. No Andrew we did NOT see any whales. Thanks to my son’s class and his great teacher. Any other teachers out there? Feel free to invite us for a visit.

Monday, March 12, 2007 – Day 22 – Not all voyages involve miles

2007-03-30T23:54:00.001-07:00

Monday, March 12, 2007 – Day 22 – Not all voyages involve miles
Melbourne Beach (0 Miles)
In preparation for the next three months our team has to do some work. Evelyn and I are returning to Oregon to spend time with my son and to finish some work for Mount Hood Community College where I work. Stein will also be visiting his son and managing and visiting with some of his business accounts. Many folks seemed surprised that we are heading off in the middle of our first project. A voyage does not have to be continous travel. The most important piece to the Beach Walk Project is establishing relationships within coastal communities under the common cause of protection our watersheds. The most important relationship is of course with our familes. Taking this time off will give us the opportunity to be with them and prepare for the next three months between Georgia and Manhattan.

Sunday, March 11, 2007 – Day 21 – Manatee…Do they really exist?

2007-03-18T17:40:00.000-07:00

Sunday, March 11, 2007 – Day 21 – Manatee…Do they really exist?
Titusville – Bethune Beach (28 Miles)
With the addition of our second shuttle vehicle, a 2008 Ford Escape Hybrid donated by Ford Motor Company, we were finally able to give Evelyn, a well desrved R&R break today with friends Jen and Christy from Marine Resource Council.

Stein and I headed out late Saturday evening and camped along the Titusville bridge in our faithful RV that we have tentatively named ‘Moby’ after Melville’s neurotic white whale. Moby is a 1986 Dodge 250 (or 350 depending on which side of the vehicle stand) with a pop-top that was designed by a then small group called Sportsmobile out of Indiana. Today Sportsmobile is a thriving custom van company with locations in Indiana, Texas and California (www.sportsmobile.com). Moby, in nearly mint condition (save for the desicated wasp nests in the closet) was previously maintained by a ninety-five year old guy who bought it new in ’86.

According to the dealer Debra from Gas Buggies in Ft, Meyers, Florida, “The fella finally decided it might be time to settle down…perhaps get a nine to five and start a family.”

Without Evelyn to shuttle us, Stein and I got a bit creative and with the use of our two vehicles. Leaving the Escape at the bridge we headed out to ‘The Drag’ just north of Merrit Island. The sun was just rising as we eased our kayaks into the placid channel and paddled past a cluster of sport fishers at the official boat launch.
A solitary dolphin saluted us with his dorsal fin as we exited the channel and entered the Intercoastal waters.

Heavy mist shrouded the dark waterway as we took a blind south-westerly heading following a trail of crab pot markers. Pulling on the line below one marker, I lifted the pot to check the contents. Three healthy crabs scrambled about, still intoxicated by the oils of the bait and somewhat shocked to find no easy exit to their new residence. “Well” I said to Stein, “In a desperate moment at least we know a potential lunch is nearby.”

Travel was fast, heading south with the aid of our Kayak kites and feeling ambitious we headed up to Bethune Beach and completed another downwind run from Bethune back to the Drag to give us a total of twenty eight miles for the day.

Pulling into the channel of the ‘Drag’ something moved in the water ahead of us. “Mermaids?” whispered Stein with a sly grin cracking his sun-parched lips.
Catching a glimpse of the leathery, vegetation encrusted skin of our watery escort I offered Stein a gesture of no-contest. “She’s all yours, you lucky sailor.” I said as our sultry siren revealed her paddle like tail reaching nearly two feet across.

Our manatees, all six of them that day finally silenced these skeptic kayakers, Mermaids do exist.

Saturday, March 10, 2007 – Day 20 – When Dolphins Attack

2007-03-10T18:39:00.000-08:00

Saturday, March 10, 2007 – Day 20 – When Dolphins Attack
Jetty Park, Cape Canaveral – Titusville (16 Miles)
“Look out!” I shouted
Stein peered over his shoulder to find the dolphins gaining on him.
“I’ll have to wrestle them!” shouted Stein as the leader’s dorsal fin brushed past the stern of his kayak. “I think I can stall them! Save yourself!” Dropping his paddle, Stein rose out of the cockpit of his kayak and lunged toward the gang leader’s back. Paddling fiercly toward the shoreline I glanced over my shoulder once to watch as Stein and the leader Dolphin grappled, then disappeared under the surface of the frothing water.
The story above: Truth, or the makings of an outrageously fictional Beach Walk Project urban legend? Your choice.
Faced with the restricted area around Cape Canaveral Stein and I opted for the Intercoastal today. The required two miles offshore seemed unsafe for a day that was predicted to have a 10 to 15 knot headwind. We have found during our short legs on the Intercoastal that the marine life is more obvious and sociable. This morning as we paddled in the the mist through the shallow waters under the private piers, we were greeted by many seagulls and the occaisional Pelican. Nearing our halfway point, a Northeast breeze picked up, clearing the mist and improving our visibility. Affixing our gaze to the shallows, we found small doormat sized stingrays snuggling amidst the sands and aggressive crabs that snapped at our paddles. An hour later the water became agitated ahead of us and I sprinted to view closer what was the comotion. A dorsal fin, then three more emerged from the water then slipped back under the surface. “Dolphins” I shouted to Stein but he was busy on the phone discussing with Evelyn our public event for the afternoon. I chased after the fins as they lead me out into the center of the channel. Not speaking Dolphin myself I sensed the dolphins may be as curious of me as I was of them. I continued to paddle forward as three of the mammals passed s-turns under my kayak. The water was too murky for me to see them as they passed under, and the kayak rose on the pillows of their passing. Finally, two juveniles rose out of the water inches from my bow, landing with a tail flick and a splash that that soaked my glasses. Then, they were gone. In what must have been a sprint, they finally rose to the surface again nearly 100 yards in the distance. Sunlight diffused through the droplets on my glasses. With a few strokes I pointed my kayak due North and smiled. No manatees yet, but certainly plenty of magic in the Indian River portion of our voyage.
The afternoon was rounded up with an appearance at the annual Pelican Island Refuge Wildlife Festival in Sebastian with our friends from Marine Resource Council. Thanks to Jen, Scott and of course our lovely Evelyn for making this appearance possible.
Also, great thanks to our friends, Jim and Sarah for putting up with our sandy feet at their place in Cocoa Beach.

Friday, March 09, 2007 – Day 19- Man o’ Wars and Rocketships

2007-03-09T15:36:00.000-08:00

Friday, March 09, 2007 – Day 19- Man o’ Wars and Rocketships
South Beach, Patrick Airforce Base – Jetty Park, Cape Canaveral (14 miles)
The Beach Walk team took the last week off to spend some quality time with our families and celebrate our first 200 miles. Driving fours hours last night from Miami to Melbourne; we rallied this morning at 5:00 am. Moving at the rapid pace of a pack of turtles we managed to get on the water by 7:30.
“The fiddle factor continues to dog us.” I said to Stein concerned about how much time we lose to preparation and packing.
“Yes, BOBert” he replied, “I suspect the pedicures and brow plucking stand as our greatest time liability.”
As we paddled out past the breakers, the sun shrugged the morning clouds off its shoulders and illuminated the sky with shafts of pink light. Soft, slow moving rollers eased under us from the Southeast as a warm breeze whispered in from the Northeast. The kayaks slipped silently through the water and we made easy progress nearly a half mile offshore.
Stein and I discussed our families and how we could bring them all together for some leg of the trip. The sea remained silent while the usually ubiquitous pelicans slept in late. Making quick progress, Stein and I snuck up on a fleet of Man O’ Wars.
“I say Admiral,” I said, pulling alongside one of the larger inflated floaters (which receive their name from their resemblance to 15th century armed naval vessels under sail), “The winds certainly seem to be in our favor this morn, eh?” The stingy sailor offered no response, gained a lift in the breeze and passed across my bow. “What?” I shouted as he sailed away, “Too busy for idle chit chat? I’ll be sure to give the next sea turtle your coordinates!”
In the distance I see Stein paddling away. Beyond him, nearly fourteen miles away, the NASA towers dot the horizon. I wonder to myself in the centuries of space travel to come, if we will ever find a planet that can offer anything as precious as the oceans, rivers and lakes we have on this beautiful place called Earth.

Tuesday, Feb 27, 2007 – Day 17-Whales!

2007-02-27T21:34:00.001-08:00

Tuesday, Feb 27, 2007 – Day 17-Whales!
Sebastian Inlet – Ponce de Leon Park(13 miles)

We saw a whale. Well, at least a life sized replica. Today’s venture ended at the Marine Resources Council in Palm Bay, Florida. Jim Egan, director of the center provided us a place to stay for the night and much time was spent talking about the preservation of native coastline ecosystems as a sound investment in protecting communities. Jim offered a recent example of this with the recent tsunami damage in Asia. Preserved, natural coastlines stalled the tsunami and actually saved lives.
This morning we woke after a great evening of camping at Sebastian Inlet Park. A heavy mist shrouded the sea as we walked our kayaks across land from the Intercoastal. An offshore wind kept the waters flat as Stein and I paddled our way north of the fishing pier along with a singular Dolphin.
Between our boats, pelicans flew in formation just inches above the surface of the water. Stein and I looked on with aerial admiration. The perceived nobleness of pelicans surfing with grace above the wave breaks and dive bombing for fish, contrasted sharply with the debauchery of the Pelicans begging by the fish cleaning station at Sebastian Inlet Park. A sign by the station refered to the dangers of Pelicans eating handouts from visitors. The result is a slow painfull death, for the Pelican…not the visitor. Pelicans, make beautiful aerialists and very ugly beggars.

Monday, Feb 26, 2007 – Day 16-Pompano Feast

2007-02-27T20:32:00.000-08:00

Monday, Feb 26, 2007 – Day 16-Pompano Feast
Vero Beach Riverside Municipal Park-Sebastian Inlet (14 miles)

Mobile life has been a challenge for the team. Last night was a desperate crash in the parking lot of the Budget Inn in Vero Beach. (Note to travellers: A $10 fee will be applied the morning after to EACH guest, including those sleeping in the van.)
Under the illumination of street lights and the adjacent 7-Eleven, the team was serenaded to sleep by the screach of tires, the roar of exhaust brakes, and the distant thunder of a passing locomotive.
Florida State Parks has now offered us a tidy site at the Sebastian Inlet Park for the next three days. We are incredibly grateful.
Today our destination was our new campsite at Sebastian Inlet. The wind, contrary to our request, blew against us. The matrix of mangrove lined canals from yesterday gave way to an open passage with sparse islands. Dodging pelican aerial torpedos, and flying mullets; we paddled our way through the building crosswind. While crossing a wide stretch of the Intercoastal; an aparition appeared on the water before us. A man walking on water?
Stein and I lingered for a few minutes to talk with this water-walking man when a Pompano siezed his lure and made a desperate but unsuccessful run.
“Aw, I think it’s a Jack. They like to hide under structures.” he shouted as the fish swam under Stein’s Kayak. “Aw, hang on a sec, that could be a Pompano. Best eating fish in the state. Oh yeah it’s a Pompano!”
It was Stein who finally convinced the friendly catch and release sportsman to release the handsome fish to our kayak’s storage compartment.
Late in the afternoon Stein and I became separated and I took time to explore the small islands along the waterway. Shallow waters revealed a red algae (not native to this area), puffer fish, and snails. An American Egret was spooked, took flight and moaned curses at my quite arrival. Staying in close to the west coast of the Intercoastal for several hours, I looked east to find the Sebastian Inlet and poised the Kayak Kite for a successful, downwind run. Dolphins sprinted ahead of my boat while Pelicans dove randomly in the waters around me.
The evening was spent enjoying Evelyn’s preparation of the Pompano. One filet was quickly marinated and BBQ’d while the other filet was acid cooked with lime, lemon and sea salt in Evelyn’s favorite Guam dish, called Kelaguin. Sunset and a waxing moon provided the visual dessert for the evening.

Feb 12-Half Horses DO Float

2007-02-15T22:19:00.000-08:00

Feb 12, 2007
Day two. The BWP team gathers in West Palm Beach for an interview with Sportscaster, Ryan Lieber for WPTV-Channel 5. (to be aired on Channel Five (West Palm) on Saturday, February 18 at 6 PM)
“What is most interesting about this venture.” says Stein in the interview, “is what we don’t know will happen.”
As the interview is completed, our eyes are drawn to a significant white spot on the sand. We discover it to be a dead sea turtle. The top of its shell is visibly broken where he was most likely hit by a powerboat.
A tractor for beach cleaning passes us by with a bucket full of trash including; empty water bottles, broken beach chairs, and abandoned boogie boards.
“What’s the most interesting trash you have found on this beach?” I ask the driver later.
“Well…” the driver thinks for a moment, “I found half a hourse once.”
“We just need to take care of our beaches and water.” continued the driver. “It begins with the local communities. It is the local communities that need to initiate an expectation that everyone needs to take of the coastline and our watersheds

Feb 11-Ben & Jerry's and the Food Chain?

2007-02-15T21:57:00.001-08:00

Feb 11, 2007
Launch day. From 2pm-4-pm is the launch party at South Pointe Park with ice cream donated from the Keystone Plaza Ben & Jerry’s. Fernando and crew are on-site to begin filming for the documentary, while the BWP team talks to the public about some of the gear they will be using for the trip. We are encouraged by everyone’s interest in the project. Finally, as we perpare to log our first miles on the 1600 mile long journey, a local named Jose shows up with his two sons, J and A, ages 10 and 8.
“Even the endangerment of the smallest fish can change things” say Stein in a general context to keep the boys entertained.
“You mean you want to protect the food chain.” declares the eight year old boy.
“Yes,” says Stein, pretending not to be shocked by young boy’s knowledge, “Yes, that is correct.”
Later, as Stein and I begin our first steps; we receive a friendly wave and “Good Luck.” From Jose and his sons, J and A. Stein and I both want to say thanks guys, it is kids like you that will inspire us every step we take.
Later that evening Stein and I have the privilage of sharing this new story with all the motivated friends and supporters of the project who attend our first fundraising dinner social in Coconut Grove.

Feb 10-Sushi and Toothy Grins

2007-02-15T21:26:00.000-08:00

Feb 10, 2007
Twenty-four hours till launch. The BWP team is finally all in the same time zone. We gather at Stein’s house; some of us reuniting after more than five years. Taking a much needed dip in the ocean is first on the long to-do list. The water is clear and a warm 70 degrees. Waves crash about us as we play chicken fights on the sand bar.
“Saw a barracuda out here last night with the mask and snorkel” says Stein during a quiet moment.
There is silence among our crowd as we ponder the rather toothy grin of the Barracuda. The chicken fights stop. Quietly and casually(and I stress casually as in an unpanicked fashion) we make our way back to the shore
“I like to eat sushi...” says Evelyn later, “not be sushi.”
We all agree.

Feb 9 - Team coming together

2007-02-15T20:39:00.000-08:00

Feb 9, 2007
Forty-eight hours till launch and the BWP is still on opposite coasts. Evelyn and I are busy packing a few more items from our sponsors in Hood River, Oregon. The phone rings, it’s the folks from Shockles, “Your gear is done, I’m bringing it over.”
“Tell him to drop it off at the house.” says Evelyn, “I have a plate of sweet and sour chicken for him.”
Meanwhile Stein is in West Palm Beach, Florida picking up a friend at the airport, and they head off for a dinner of stale pizza.
By 3:30 Evelyn and I meet with my son’s class and answer questions about the project.
Q-“How many miles are you going?” A-“1600 miles” Class-“Ohhhhhhhhh….”
Q-“How do you unpollute water?” A-“To not pollute it to begin with.” Class-“Ahhhhhhhh….”
Q-“What animals will you see?” A-“Alligators” Class-“Cool!”
The sun sets in Oregon and Evelyn and I board a plane bound for Ft. Lauderdale. Its nearly nidnight in Florida and Stein and friends don a mask and snorkel and head out among the waves to visit the fish (and alligators?) by moonlight.

Beach Walk Team in Miami for interview with CNN

2007-02-05T20:18:00.000-08:00

2/2/2007-The Beach Walk Project team was in Miami this week for their first interview with CNN-Comcast South Florida Newsmakers. Donning their flashy new PFD's (that's lifejackets for you landlubbers) Stein and Robert sat down for a chat with CNN.
"Kids that play outdoors, protect the outdoors" said Weinman.
"We are connecting communities through events for the common cause of protecting our endangered watersheds" said Kretsinger, who elaborated by describing the collaboration between Beach Walk Project and Waterkeepers Alliance.
The barefoot boys were given a chance to thank many of their sponsors including; Old Town Canoe, REI, Patagonia, Dakine, Ben&Jerry's Ice Cream, Simply Brilliant and many others.