First, here are my photos from the trip.

I arrived in Honolulu on Friday the 7th, in the late afternoon, so there wasn't time to do much besides get settled in. jmsa and I picked up barawn from the University, and we went out to eat at Maguro, a decent Japanese restaurant featuring teishoku and very closely spaced tables.

On Saturday the adventures began with renting sit-on-top kayaks at Kailua Beach, which it turns out is famous for windsurfing and kiteboarding, thanks to the strong, steady winds. This does not make it an ideal kayaking location, as we found. I got a single kayak; jmsa and barawn shared a tandem. It may be for the best that no cameras were brought along to capture the epic struggle/comedy that was launching, not to mention paddling upwind. It was the most difficult paddling I'd ever undertaken, and it didn't help that my rented paddle was feathered in a way that didn't seem to be adjustable. We'd brought plenty of drinking water with us, but we didn't drink even a sip of it while out on the water, so rough was the paddling. jmsa was pretty uneasy about the experience, so we turned back after about fifteen minutes; I don't know how much longer I could have kept it up myself. Back on dry land, we grabbed lunch nearby and took it to Lanikai Beach to eat it and stroll.

We stopped at notoriously windy Nu`uanu Pali Lookout to enjoy the vista and take some pictures. Most visitors there don't seem to realize that if they turn right, they can walk along a quiet (and not windy!) trail that used to be Pali Highway, now overgrown with flora. barawn happens to know that there are some guava trees along the trail, so in the course of our walking the trail, he attacked gently commoved some branches, producing several nice guava fruit. Back at their place, we enjoyed the fresh snack. I couldn't restrain my impulse to bite down on the many hard seeds, though; if you find yourself with some fresh guava, my recommendation is to use a juicer or strainer to separate the seeds from the juice and pulp.

That evening, we got "plate lunch" dinners at Rainbow Drive-In and ate them on Waikiki Beach. Eating two out of three meals on a beach—that's paradise! It was dark by this time, but that just meant we had the beach to ourselves as we chowed down on Hawaiian-style macaroni salad and—in my case—delicious mahi-mahi, listened to the breaking waves, and felt the warm ocean breeze. After eating we made our way along Kalakaua Avenue, taking in the street life and shops. This stretch of road boasts an absurd density of ABC Stores; they almost put Starbucks to shame on that front.

On Sunday, jmsa and I headed to Diamond Head Trail, only to find it was closed through the 20th for slope maintenance. So instead we checked out an arts and crafts fair we'd passed by on the way there. We saw a number of interesting craft booths, but for me the highlight of the fair was the chance to try andagi. Sātā andāgī! Sātā andāgī! Sātā andāgī! (Reference to Azumanga Daioh, the pertinent episode of which I just had to re-watch.)

Later in the afternoon, the three of us went to Chinatown, which wasn't nearly as lively as I imagine it is at other times and on other days of the week. We dined well at Little Village, and on the way home we stopped at the Ala Moana Center (a big shopping mall) so I could savor the Lupicia tea shop in person. I bought several different teas, among them a chestnut tea that's not in stock in their web store and one of their limited Hawaiian edition blends. Yay tea!

Monday: after a breakfast of haupia-filled malasadas, barawn headed off to work while jmsa and I headed to Hanauma Bay, a nature preserve that's also a very popular beach. Since I can't see much without my glasses, I stuck to the beach, but jmsa went snorkeling.

Next we drove northward along Oahu's southeastern coast, stopping at scenic lookouts along the way. At least one of them turned out to be a filming location from the TV series Lost. That's something I looked up later, and I found it'd almost be difficult not to happen to find yourself at one of that series' filming locations on a casual tour of that island.

It was a scenic drive. It's funny, you know that phrase, "I took the scenic route," that serves as a euphemism for, "I got lost"? In Hawaii, if you do get lost, it really is the scenic route! Which is not to say that we got lost. :)

On the way home, we picked up a manapua for jmsa and a shave ice for me. Then, grocery shopping at Don Quixote, "the Japanese Wal-Mart". How I wish they had a location near my home! Anticipating the next day's outing to the North Shore, we picked up some bottled tea and a package each of Oreo daifuku mochi and peanut butter daifuku mochi, forms of the traditional Japanese confection that had—like spam musubi—been fused with processed American staple foods to produce something charmingly Hawaiian. For my pantry at home I bought a matcha–potato soup mix (intriguing!), curry sauce mix, some fresh udon, a soba tray, sparkling sake and yuzu-flavored sake, and Kewpie mayonnaise.

That evening we dined at Tsukuneya Robata Grill, where everything was yummy; I'm a particularly ardent fan of their "misonnaise" tsukune. My mouth is watering at the memory of them. They were soooooo good!

On Tuesday morning, my last day in Hawaii, one of jmsa and barawn's cats caught a gecko. Apparently gecko-watching and -hunting is one of these cats' major pastimes, right up there with eating and sleeping. They're obsessed.

We drove up to the North Shore, stopping at Dole Plantation briefly on the way up. As is virtually required, we stopped at Matsumoto Shave Ice, too. From there we beach-hopped: Haleiwa Beach with its stand-up paddlers and shore critters, Waimea Beach with its crazy cliff-jumpers, and then Sharks Cove, where we settled down after grabbing a bite to eat at a grocery store and Sharks Cove Grill. Sharks Cove is a reef that was under particularly shallow water that day, so you could just walk around on the exposed rocks or wade through perhaps a foot of water to get an up-close view of a wide variety of marine life. The ride back on Kamehameha Highway along the northeast coast of Oahu was yet another scenic drive. We had some time for dinner before my return flight, so we bellied up to the bar at Izakayaka Nonbei, a well-regarded Kapahulu pub that didn't disappoint. I had simmered taro, fried oysters, and several snagged-from-barawn edamame, which I'm mildly—and pleasantly—surprised to find myself enjoying the more I try.

And then, all too soon, my vacation was over, and I returned to the chilly, wet, and dreary place I call home. :)

My parents have come to visit, and yesterday we took advantage of a beautiful, warm autumn day to go kayaking at Wye Landing on Maryland's eastern shore of the Chesapeake Bay. Here are the pictures, and here's the route we took. We were also taking advantage of my odd schedule as a flight controller, in which I'll be working this coming Sunday, for which reason I had yesterday off. Wye Landing—where we put in—was nearly deserted, save for one or two crabbers launching from the boat ramp. Other than that, we encountered literally no boats whatsoever. My personal highlight was seeing all the sea nettles in the water, as I'd never seen them in the wild before. Welcome to the Chesapeake Bay, self. Don't practice your wet exits, eskimo rolls, or swimming here. :) My dad, who was wielding the camera, didn't get any pictures of them, but they were thick in the shallower parts of the Wye East River. I think they have sort of an ethereal beauty, as long as you don't need to worry about their sting.

A close runner-up in the wildlife category was the bald eagle we saw. I'd had no idea what kind of wildlife we'd encounter. The eagle soared over us, landed in a fir tree and perched there for a while, and then flew across the river to land in another tree. We encountered another—its mate?—later a bit farther upriver.

We paddled about 4.7 miles in all. I'm a long way from circumnavigating Wye Island (a ~14 mile trip), but I'd absolutely go there again and enjoy it.

The weather here has cooled and dried down to near perfection. And so I took my new, as-yet-unnamed kayak out on Sunday for a paddle in Spa Creek, in Annapolis, Maryland. Like Deep Creek Lake, it isn't a place for serene contemplation of the natural environment. The other boats around in Spa Creek, though, are much, much bigger.

I put my kayak in the water at Truxtun Park, which appears to be the area's only public boat launch. Getting there around 10:00 a.m., I was worried I'd face a herd of fellow boaters filling up the parking lot and launch area, but that wasn't a problem at all. There were a few people launching sailboats and classic old motorboats every so often, but there was plenty of room for everybody.

I had with me my new marine VHF radio (a Uniden MHS 350), snacks and drinks, and NOAA's Annapolis Harbor BookletChart (overkill, really). Since I had my GPS receiver with me and on the whole time, you can see my 4.6-mile route, too. I'd been thinking I'd use my cell phone to take pictures, but once I was on the water I felt nervous about taking it out of its dry bag, and once I returned home I found that the pictures are pretty crappy and cumbersome to get off of the phone. I did want to take more photos along the way, though, so I'll think up another camera solution.

Heading out of Spa Creek, the wind seemed a bit brisk, and paddling upwind felt like a struggle I wouldn't want to keep up for a long time. But the wind settled down over the course of the day. Going under the 6th Street drawbridge, I noticed a sign gave the phone number for the drawtender but not a VHF channel, as I would have expected. I took a left into Ego Alley, being careful of the large boats in the close quarters around me. Diners sat down to brunch on one side of the channel, and I fantasized about tying up to a piling and climbing up the ladder to enjoy a civilized meal. But I kept paddling, by a flock of ducks gathered for handouts, and by a guy in a tiny sailboat (though the sails weren't up, and he had its little motor running) with a tiny lifejacketed dog along for the ride. Coming out of Ego Alley, I saw the Harbor Queen push away from the dock on its regular tour. In the docks by the harbormaster's office was the schooner Sultana; I'm definitely going to look into joining one of its short public sails.

After that I paddled alongside the rather blank sea wall by the Naval Academy. I turned around at the point where the academy grounds jut out into the Severn River, heading back up the creek along the southern shore, past the Chart House and some beautifully situated condominiums and houses. I passed a yellow buoy in the middle of the creek that might well have been this one, which seems to have stopped logging data a few months ago. I paddled into some of the creek's coves, finding napping waterfowl and residents fastidiously maintaining their boats. At the end of the cove by the Truxtun Park boat launch, a pier stands abandoned, beached by dint of accumulated silt.

Back at the put-in, I ended the paddle, and with a stranger's help I loaded my kayak back onto the roof of my car. I wasn't ready to stop enjoying the weather, though, so I got my picnic blanket, snacks, and the Sunday paper from my car and appreciated the air, the sunshine, and the view from a grassy area by the boat ramps. A few couples did likewise, one of them drinking from stemware pulled out of their picnic basket. Now that's the way to picnic.

Goodbye, summer!

This past weekend was the traditional closing-up-the-lakehouse weekend but with untraditionally nice weather. I arrived Friday night to steamed crabs and sweet corn-on-the-cob. Normally I scavenge crab legs from family members who eat the lump meat inside the main part of the crab, because some of the guts in there gross me out, whereas the legs contain meat and not much else. Feeling slightly adventurous, I decided I'd learn how to open up the carapace and eat all of the meat in a crab. It isn't as tricky as I'd imagined.

On Saturday I forewent a hike at Dolly Sods with my dad, brother, and sister-in-law (their pictures) in favor of a day of quiet relaxation. I dusted off my fondue pot for a deliciously herby sage cheese fondue during cocktail hour by the fire. Dinner: fire-roasted yams (with brown sugar and butter on top) and chicken wings with our customary rosemary–butter coating. I had my last s'more of the year by firelight after dinner and fell asleep to the chirping of katydids.

On Sunday I slept in. After a late breakfast of pancakes and bacon, I joined my brother and sister-in-law for a motorboat cruise to the farther reaches of the lake, where a weekly sailing regatta was taking place, and where people seem to enjoy displaying unusual yard ornaments. And we saw the legendary swan boat. When we got back, I took my new kayak out for a paddle, but it wasn't a great time of day for it—hot, crowded and noisy with boats, and choppy from all the wakes. I paddled out to Stump Point and back, for a total distance of about 1.5 miles. Dinner: London Broil, twice-baked potatoes, more corn-on-the-cob, and sautéed mushrooms and onions. And some robust red wine, the identity of which I didn't catch. My parents defeated the team of me, my brother, and my sister-in-law in the second of two rounds of Trivial Pursuit, which I attribute to the fact that the members of my team were infants when the questions in this edition were written! We can usually remember to think back to a world map with a Soviet Union and two Germanies, but we're at a total loss at the 70s-era pop culture questions.

As soon as I woke up on Monday morning, I donned my paddling gear and headed out in my kayak to enjoy a quieter experience on the water. This time I went over to Red Run Cove, where I'd heard I might see some beavers or muskrats. I didn't, but it was a very nice ~2.5-mile paddle. Afterwards it was great to return to a breakfast of my family's famous chocolate chip croissants. Later I sat down by the water and embroidered while my dad and brother maneuvered the motorboat onto its trailer and up to the house. The weather was so pleasant, it was hard to leave, but the end-of-holiday-weekend traffic probably wasn't getting any better, and I had to return to real life at some point. Traffic on the drive back was especially slow.

Now if the weather around here will cooperate, I've got my new kayak, my bicycle, and a pair of in-line skates that I've yet to try. On top of that, I've signed up for a series of nature tours of the local lakes, and I'm planning to participate in a neighborhood wildlife study to catalog and count the resident and migratory macrofauna of the local park and pond.

I got my first kayak today! It's a used kevlar Wilderness Systems Cape Horn Pro. It weighs a relatively manageable 42 pounds and measures 15’9” long. I test-paddled it at Spa Creek in Annapolis this morning and really liked it. I'm poring over my schedule and the weather forecast for this week to figure out when it'll hit the water next. I'm very pleased. :)

I'm back from Sea Kayaking 102. Here's a review of my experience at it. I took a few pictures, too. Fellow campers have posted their photos as well: Manuel's, Ed's, John's, Gina's, Mike's. Susan, one of the instructors, wrote an account of her SK102 experience.

I drove down to Lake Anna on Friday afternoon, encountering the expected traffic jam heading south on Interstate 95 after the beltway. That's an area I haven't visited much, and I noticed the interstate there (south of the beltway, in Virginia) is narrower and in noticeably worse condition than it is north of the beltway, in Maryland between DC and Baltimore, where I drive often. It was about a three-hour drive for me. I hadn't realized Lake Anna was so large—it's bigger than Deep Creek Lake, though with many of the same inland-lake fixtures: prominent realty businesses, anglers, jet skis, a state park, and the occasional ridiculously overpowered (and presumably compensatory) quasi cigarette boat. Some SK102 participants went for a night paddle on Friday evening, but I just unpacked and chilled out.

On Saturday morning I attended the Kayak Design, Wet Exit, and Basic Strokes class. The first on-the-water activity in this most elementary of classes was the wet exit. I'd thought that my practice at the pool would prepare me to do a wet exit here, but I lost the nerve to capsize myself. I'm disappointed in myself for that, and I'm still trying to understand why I couldn't do it. That put a dark cloud over my whole weekend.

The boat I borrowed was an Epic 16, a red fiberglass number. It isn't quite an ideal boat for beginners, I think, because of the rounded hull and the way it's too easy to push the rudder pedals by mistake. I should have asked how to lock the rudder pedals, because that rudder gave me plenty of directional problems in the morning class.

After a short break for lunch, we had afternoon classes; I went to Stroke Improvement, Intermediate Strokes, and Bracing. The instructor was adamant about all the students having completed a wet exit that day. I understood that any instructor had the right to insist on the wet exit as a prerequisite for his class, but I'd been told they'd all been briefed as to the state of my wet exit skills, so I didn't expect it suddenly to come up as we were on the water and about to paddle away, as it did. I was sent off with an assistant, nominally to quickly perform a wet exit and return to class. I explained the situation and offered to sit out the class, but after some dawdling while the assistant paddled back out to confer with the instructor, it was decided that I could join class without a spray skirt, and for good measure the assistant and I swapped boats, so I paddled her yellow Montauk (IIRC). The class was out on the water, something like half a mile away by the time I returned to them, so I missed much of the class, but I did get some help with my strokes and practiced bracing with the shallow leans I could manage skirtless. The wind tried to blow us ashore toward some grazing cows, and I don't know if this disturbed them or what, but one of them started mooing incessantly, to our amusement.

I'd estimate there were about five or six accidental capsizes in the classes I attended, at least a couple of them happening when the class was practicing leans, which is understandable. I don't know how the others happened, though, since I was nowhere near capsizing at any point outside the bracing/leaning practice. I wonder what portion of the explanation is my having good balance and a feel for the water and what portion is my aversion to risk.

After classes I sprawled out in the sunshine for a nap, read for a little while, and watched champion Greenland paddler Alison Sigethy demonstrate many Greenland-style rolls. It was quite impressive. Those native Greenlanders had figured out a way to roll for any position the paddle might be in at any given moment, including some improbable but artistic-looking ones, and ones including no paddle at all. Googling her name when I got home, I see that Alison happens to have some work in Artomatic, which means my worlds are colliding I have another reason to (re-)visit Artomatic since last week's Dorkbot DC meeting there.

A big cookout came next, and for that I cracked open the quarter-liter bottle of J.P. Chenet cabernet–syrah I picked up at the Brussels airport last year. Having expended a great deal more energy than I do in a typical day sitting in front of a computer, I was hungry, and the food was good. I watched the strobe and flare demonstrations after dinner, learning that the expiration date on a flare doesn't seem to be much of a predictor of whether it'll work or not—actually, I'm pretty sure a much higher ratio of the expired flares worked than did the not-yet-expired flares. I'm told the key is to keep flares in a watertight bag, and keep at least the tidal-waters-legal minimum of three (soon to be four) on hand. I sat by the campfire only briefly before hitting the sack.

Today, Sunday, were more informal classes, most of them on land. First I attended one on packing a kayak for camping; second, I checked out the navigation class. I was disappointed to have missed the demonstration of Greenland rope gymnastics (a.k.a. Qajaasaarneq, which I have no idea how to pronounce), which apparently took place ahead of schedule. The purpose of this sport is to develop and practice skills similar to those used in kayaking, but I can't help thinking of it as a horizontal version of aerial silks.

Camping-wise, I overpacked on food and heat packs, and I underpacked on padding for under my sleeping bag. If I were planning to go camping in the future, I'd definitely get a Therm-a-rest.

I've been weblog-quiet lately mostly because I've been preparing to attend SK102, a weekend-long sea kayaking skills clinic, this upcoming weekend. (I'll be missing a tea ceremony lesson as well as Robot Fest, alas.) Last weekend I shopped for kayaking accessories like a PFD, paddle float, bilge pump, dry bag, paddling jacket (that is, a jacket made of waterproof material with gaskets at the wrists), and a couple of high-tech paddling tops. Last night I picked up a Thule roof rack for my car—with the odometer reading just shy of 100,000 miles, I hope I'm not jinxing it by investing in the roof rack (well, in the model-specific "fit kit" part of it, at least).

I'll be borrowing a kayak and paddle (I've been too busy preparing for this weekend to finish carving my Greenland-style paddle—that's my excuse). This'll also be the first time I've ever gone camping, so I'll be using a borrowed tent and mooching off of someone else's camp stove. It should be an interesting new experience!

Here, have a flower-bud picture from my backyard.

My apologies to Michelle for not making it out to Penguin Day on Saturday morning like I said I would. I blame lack of sleep for keeping me from getting my butt downtown on time.

I wasn't even completely on time for my afternoon tea ceremony lesson. I performed a thin-tea ceremony with a shelf like this and a tea container carved from Spanish olive wood, IIRC. Next weekend I'll do a thick-tea ceremony, which I'm really just in the beginning stages of learning. For anyone in the DC area who's interested in Japanese tea ceremony, here's information about the branch where I take lessons, and here's information about the group you can join (you don't need to be taking lessons) if you'd like to be invited to tea ceremony events and workshops.

I went to another kayaking pool session on Saturday evening, where an instructor helped me reach a point where I could sit in a kayak with a spray skirt on, capsize myself, and perform a non-panicked wet exit—with a swimmer's mask on and my eyes open. The next step is to do all that with no mask and my eyes closed, but we ran out of time. And I think I got the go-ahead to attend the kayaking skills clinic weekend at the end of this month. All my plans had been on hold for a week when I was asked not to come—I even stayed away from carving my Greenland-style paddle for fear I'd never get to use it—so now I've gotta get planning and line up a tent and kayak to borrow/rent.

I've never heard an article so much talked about among my friends and acquaintances as yesterday's Post article on the violinist at the Metro station—if by chance you haven't read it or heard about it, the article plots and reports on a social experiment on art and context.

I caught some cherry blossoms last night before the weather turned cold and wet. Pictures here; they convinced me to crack open my camera's manual to see if I can do better.

I've been asked not to come to the kayaking skills weekend clinic I'd been looking forward to at the end of this month, due to my not yet having demonstrated comfort with being underwater in an out-of-control situation. I'm torn between using that as a motivation to focus all my effort on overcoming this issue and accepting that safe kayaking is just going to be too hard for me.

I've had a weekend full of activity, and I've got some sore muscles to show for it.

I usually don't mention movie nights, but for a change of pace Friday night at
seelevarcuzzo 's place, we played Wii games. I'm probably the last first-world Gen Xer to say this, but the Wii really is a neat interface. My favorite game with it was doubles tennis. Much Rayman Raving Rabbids was played too, and while the deranged rabbits were amusing, its mini-games mostly just looked frustrating.

At my tea ceremony lesson on Saturday, I made koicha for, IIRC, the second time ever. Koicha is the thick type of maccha, as opposed to the thinner usucha, which beginners start out making. The koicha ceremonies are more formal and a little more elaborate. Any time a tea ceremony student learns some significant new procedure, the lesson tends to take a while and be exhausting, because every movement has to be described and often corrected by the teacher, and it's no doubt pretty tedious for the classmates who are serving as guests or just observing. I wore my obi-like belt for the first time, and I'd say it's a partial success; the ribbons I was using for closure in the back weren't stitched securely enough, and one of them now hangs by a thread. I may try replacing the ribbons with a metal clasp closure and see how that works. The belt part itself looks good.

Next up was a pool session with a kayaking instructor who's experienced in helping people get comfortable with wet exits. Going into it, I was pessimistic about my potential for becoming comfortable underwater. After all, those beginning swimming lessons I took late last year were, if not literally disastrous, certainly discouraging. But through this instructor's patience and creativity, I feel I turned a corner. Wearing a diver's mask and a nose clip helped. Holding my breath instead of exhaling helped too. For the first time, I touched the bottom of a pool with my hands. For the first time, I sensed my body not as a weight that could drown me but as a buoyant volume and as something I can maneuver in the water. By the end of the session, I could sit in a kayak, hold the side of the pool, and ease myself down to where I was upside down, underwater, in the kayak, momentarily even letting go of the side of the pool, and not panicking. Realizing what an achievement this is for me almost makes me want to cry for joy.


On to the final activity of the weekend: a day-long Greenland paddle carving workshop organized by the Chesapeake Paddlers Association. Here are my pictures. I'm new to woodworking, but I brought a newly-purchased block plane, some nice bar/spreader clamps, and a drawknife borrowed from my dad. The cedar blanks we started out with were roughly shaped, fortunately, so there was no need to pull out any heavy-duty saws. We worked from these instructions. A participant could complete a paddle—at least up to the waiting-for-the-finish-to-dry part—in a day, but I was a little slow, spending some time figuring out what to do and how to use woodworking tools, some time in front of the fire to defrost, and some time correcting for a mis-measurement in the cedar blank I received. Most of the productive work I did was measuring and marking lines to guide the beveling work. After that, I got a start on planing down some corners toward the bevel marks, but it was cold, and I was getting sore, and it was time to call it a day. I should be able to complete the paddle at home. I'm considering what I could clamp it to in order to work on it; in decent weather, my deck railing could do.

I've never enjoyed my whirlpool bathtub quite so much as I did when I got home this evening.