I’ve been kayaking out of the Jericho Sailing Centre for decades and guiding and instructing there for years. So when the good folks at the Jericho Rescue Team asked for a “splash test dummy” to help train their latest batch of volunteers on how to rescue capsized kayakers, I was all in!
Over I go!
The Sailing Centre is home to many clubs and businesses that put hundreds of small craft out to sea every year. Inevitably, some of those mariners are going to get into difficulties. Each season, the Rescue Team helps with some full-on emergencies and intervenes early to keep dozens of situations from escalating into emergencies.
I think he’s supposed to be inside that boat, not beside it!
Actually fishing a kayaker and a kayak out of the water was a good learning opportunity for the volunteers, who deal with many different types of small craft, each with its own quirks. (Pro tip: a kayak drains better if you lift it out of the water bow first rather than stern first!) In addition, each trainee got the opportunity to steer the boat to the swimmer, and to kill the engine before pulling the victim to the stern and the reboarding ladder. (Thankfully for me, no-one forgot that last step!)
Help approaches.
The late April Sunday was cloudy and the water surprisingly cold. But I had my trusty drysuit. Or not. As I discovered during my first capsize, I hadn’t quite sealed the zipper tab all the way, so the icy sea found its way in at about crotch level. Oh well, this added a bit of verisimilitude to the rescue scenarios! Plus I got to entertain the folks on the rescue boat with my down-on-all-fours, leg-cocked-up-like-a-dog-at-a-fire-hydrant pose as I drained water out of the drysuit zipper.
Almost there.A helping hand.Deploying the reentry ladder.
Despite draining and resealing my suit, my insulation layers were pretty moist. So I was chilled to the point of shivering by the time we’d finished the morning’s swims. I took advantage of the lunch break to rewarm in the showers at JSA, and to borrow a wetsuit from my employers at JBK, which I layered under my still-damp drysuit in a kind of “belt-and-suspenders” redundancy.
Bringing my boat on board.Back in the water!Poling me in!Happily back aboard.You could be forgiven for thinking the guy in the red suit is saying, “Check out that dork with the propeller helmet!” But in fact, it’s a trick of perspective with my paddle. And Red Suit is following the correct man overboard procedure, keeping one arm pointed toward the swimmer, so that the person at the helm of the boat is free to concentrate on safely steering to the rescue. Swimming yet again!Pulling in with the paddle
Once I was done with the afternoon plunges, the team deposited me on shore, where I lost no time taking a more prolonged warming shower, followed by a great meal at The Galley, courtesy of the Team. It was great to have helped them learn, while getting a better understanding of how they work.
So let me start by acknowledging that over the years I’ve spent a ridiculous amount of time and money on the various incarnations of my electric bilge pumps. At this point, it’s as much about the intellectual challenge and the fun of problem solving as getting water out of my boat. But as far as obsessions for old men go, it’s pretty harmless. Plus, if you can save some cash and avoid heading down dead ends by learning from my experiences, I’m happy for you.
Nothing like a little soldery to brighten up a cold and cloudy day. Here I’m attaching the wires from the battery box, which will live in the day hatch compartment, to the wires that pass from there through the rear bulkhead and into the cockpit. The wires connected to the pump, though not the pump itself, are visible in the cockpit running over the seat.
This latest upgrade wound up becoming The Pump of Theseus: a new battery, a new battery box, and a new switch system. I also replaced both the base and backrest of my existing seatback. Still, a couple of feet of the positive and negative wires where they pass through the bulkhead into the dayhatch compartment were retained. So it’s kinda, sorta the same system, right?
Let’s walk through the components I replaced and why:
THE BATTERY
On previous systems, I’d used battery holders to stack AA batteries in series to add up to the voltage needed for a 12-volt bilge pump. I had a couple of reasons to do so at the time: I was doing longer (multi-week) trips and wanted the option to recharge the batteries in the field with my solar system and/or to swap out the rechargeable AAs with alkaline batteries from my other gear if needed. These days, I’m mostly doing shorter (long weekend) trips. In any case, I wouldn’t be doing longer trips in my skeg boat: I’d use my more capacious rudder kayak. Most significantly, over time, the thin wires from the 9 volt connector clips I’d used had sometimes corroded through – not from getting submerged, but simply from the salt air that entered the battery box when I opened it at the seashore.
At the suggestion of my friend and kayak addict co-enabler, Michael Verkerk, I switched over to a pre-fab 12 volt battery pack from Bioenno. This unit does require a wall charger, but as noted, I’m doing shorter trips these days, so the charge should last through any 2-3 day paddle I do with this boat.
THE SWITCH
In the last couple of systems I built, I‘d used magnetic relay switches, “potted” with marine sealant in a length of PVC plumbing pipe to make them watertight. And Michael had kindly made me a present of a new relay switch. But when I set up the system for a dry run on shore, I found the switch kept freezing in the closed (turned on) position after a pass with a magnet. Once the completed system was installed in the boat, I’d have had no other way to turn the pump off, short of opening the battery box and disconnecting the battery – something that would range from awkward to impossible at sea. And that would pretty much make the pump system a one-shot gadget, not reusable until I’d landed and replaced or recharged the depleted battery. So I went back to the future on the switch, using an air button and air switch designed for use around hot tubs and pools, as I’d done on an earlier pump system.
The air button is on the left. My home-brew ring for the switch cover is visible just above it.
I knew from my previous experience with air buttons that they will rapidly jam with sand around the beach, so I used keyhole saws to cut a plastic ring from one of my favourite forms of raw material stock: a dollar store kitchen cutting board! This ring was sized to hold a protective neoprene cover over the air button.
The air button in place on the rear deck. It’s mounted directly into the dayhatch compartment.The ring in place over the air button, holding a sand cover cut from thin neoprene.
THE BATTERY BOX
The new, larger battery and the air switch required a larger box, a Pelican 1120 Protector Case.
The Pelican 1120 Protector Case. The battery is the square blue object on the left. The two silver-tipped objects on the upper right are spare fuses. Poking out from the box on the lower right, just to the right of the black pressure valve button, is the hose-attachment nipple of the air switch.The waterproof pass-throughs for the wires are cable clams. These particular ones are made by Blue Sea Systems. The battery box sitting on the back deck of the kayak, ready to slide into the day compartment. The air hose is now connected to the nipple on the air switch.
Some dryland experiments with one-way valve, backflow preventers I’d previously used in the pump discharge hose confirmed two things:
They didn’t really prevent water that entered at the mushroom head from flowing backwards through the pump and into the kayak cockpit when the pump was turned off. Clearly this is because the valve is intended to be installed where the hose and mushroom head are ideally running downhill–or at least horizontally–away from the valve. The tight quarters and low freeboard of my kayak leaves the hose curving uphill to a vertically-mounted mushroom head. As a result, the one-way valve is sitting at the bottom of a water column if the hose is down-flooded by waves.
The one-way valve also seriously reduced the water output from the pump.
So I abandoned the one-way beak valves and reverted to another hack I’d used in previous systems: a custom-whittled foam “cork” at the mushroom head. It’s sized to be snug enough to prevent waves down-flooding into the boat, but loose enough for water pressure to blow the cork out of the mushroom head pop-gun style when the pump is activated. It’s on a tether to prevent loss.
A close up of of the mini-cell foam “cork” in the mushroom head, wrapped with electrical tape. It actually pushes far enough down to sit flush into the head: I’ve just pulled it partially out for clarity.
Since I was rebuilding anyhow, I also rebuilt my minicell foam seat back. I’d been happy with the support of the old one, but the actual back brace had tended to get sheared off over time as I dropped into the cockpit. I’d needed to reglue it a few times. So in the new version, the back brace is a single piece of foam that extends all the way back to the bulkhead, and rests on the lower foam piece (which also houses the pump). I’d expected to need to glue these two new components together, but found to my pleasant surprise that they press-fit solidly into place under the rear coaming. This will make accessing the pump for cleaning and maintenance much easier.
The foam base of the seat back in place. The pump is housed in a recess carved into the back of the block. I’ve used a marker to outline the areas where the seat bottom contacts the foam in preparation for carving out clearance scoops to allow the seat to slide fully back in the cockpit. Look ma! No glue! The backbrace portion of the foam seatback press-fitted into place.
So how did it all work out? Here’s the video of the first dryland test. Stay tuned: I’m already scheming on further upgrades for the air button cover and the cork!
UPDATE: DECEMBER 17, 2023
So when wandering through a kitchen specialty shop a few days ago, I stumbled across these red flexible silicone thingy-ma-bobs. The manufacturer was foolishly marketing them as stick-on drink lids for glasses and mugs, to keep your bevies hot or cold, as the case might be. But any preceptive paddler could easily discern they were actually cut-to-size covers for the air switch of your electric bilge pump system and splash lids for the mushroom head cork on the pump outlet. So I replaced the previous neoprene cover with the new silicone – it should be more watertight. Plus it accessorizes better with the colour of my kayak. And, as any of my friends will tell you, I’m nothing if not fashion forward.
Silicone drink cover, topSilicone drink cover undersidesilicone cover for air buttonsilicone splash cap for the mushroom head cork
In an earlier post, we discussed how to use a chart and compass to find a compass bearing we could follow to a desired destination. But all those techniques for heading somewhere new require us to know where we are now. As any kayaker who’s ever done a longer crossing or paddled along a featureless shoreline can confirm, it’s easy to lose track of your precise location. How do we find it again?
First, a quick detour into a concept called a Line Of Position (LOP). You’ve almost certainly used LOPs before, even if you didn’t call them LOPs. If you were wandering around a city (for example, Vancouver, British Columbia) with a paper street map, you might have known you were somewhere on Granville Street, but not sure where along Granville. So you walked down to the next corner and checked the signs for the cross street. Finding it was Broadway, you now knew your exact location: the intersection of Granville and Broadway. Each of those streets served as one LOP for you. Where the two LOPs intersected was your location.
Granville Street is one Line Of Position. Broadway is a second Line Of Position. Where they intersect is your location. See, you’re already a navigator!
To determine our location when sea kayaking, we do exactly the same thing: we find the intersection of two or more LOPs. The only difference is that we use lines other than streets as our LOPs.
Even for novice kayak navigators, there’s one Line Of Position that’s so obvious you’ve probably used it without even thinking about it: the shoreline. (Yes, most shorelines are curvy and crinkly rather than straight. But there’s no requirement that every Line Of Position be a straight line. In my hometown of Vancouver for example, Kingsway Road has lots of jinks and bends, but I can still use it to clearly define a position such as “the intersection of Kingsway and Broadway.”)
Bendy LOPs? No problem: where they intersect is still your position.
So, if we only ever intend to navigate along shorelines, why would we ever need a second LOP?
Imagine you and I and several friends are kayaking close alongside the southwest shore of North Pender Island, admiring the undersea flora on the rock wall and petting the passing Orca. Distracted by all this merriment, we’ve lost track of how much time we’ve spent paddling vs drifting. Plus, the tricky currents on this coast have sped us up or slowed us down unpredictably. So now all we’re sure of is that we’re somewhere between Boat Nook and Smuggler’s Nook. We need a second LOP to show us exactly where between those points.
A section from CHS Chart #3441. Look for Canoe Rock (below the purple compass rose) and Pelorus Pt (on the right/East side of Moresby Island). The red lines I’ve drawn in point to magnetic North, 16° East of truth North. (Why 16° East? The purple compass rose shows true North, magnetic North as of 2005, and a predicted change in the magnetic variation of 8’ Westward annually. So in in the 18 years since 2005, the variation is predicted to have reduced by 2° 24’ (18 years x 8’ = 144’ or 2° 24’). The variation in 2005 was 18 1/2° or 18° 30’. Subtracting 2° 24’ from that gives us 16° 6’ East. This matches pretty closely with the 15° 46’ East predicted for this area by the online declination calculator. We can round either figure to 16° East for practical purposes.)
To lay out a second LOP, we need to take a compass sighting (AKA a bearing) from any clearly identifiable location shown on the chart and visible from where we are in the real world. A lighthouse, the tip of a cape, one side of a known island, or a distinctive mountain peak would all be excellent options.
Looking out to sea from Pender Island, we find a highly distinctive landmark to take a bearing from: the red-and-white marker on Canoe Rock. Even better, it’s at roughly a right angle to the shoreline. (It’s a good habit to pick your landmarks so that your LOPs meet at as near to right angles as possible; this creates a much clearer intersection point than sharp acute angles or almost parallel obtuse angles.)
Taking a bearing from a real-world object (in this case, the orange thingie representing the marker on Canoe Rock) using a hiker’s/orienteering compass. Step 1. Holding the compass as level as possible, aim the Direction Of Travel arrow towards the landmark. Pro tip: this is much easier and more accurate if your body is facing the landmark. Which means your boat should also be pointing in at least the general direction of the landmark. Notice that at this time, the compass bezel dial is in a random direction relative to the magnetic compass needle, with the N (for North) on the bezel not aligned with the red needle tip. Taking a bearing from a real-world object using a hiker’s/orienteering compass, Step 2. While keeping the Direction Of Travel arrow aimed at the landmark, twist the bezel dial until the meridian lines in the bottom have put “Fred in the shed” — that is, the red box on the bottom of the bezel is enclosing the red half of the magnetic needle, and the N on the bezel is directly in front of the red needle tip. Read off the degrees at the Read Bearing Here indicator. In this case, the bearing to Canoe Rock is 224°. (BTY, if this whole process feels exactly the same as taking a bearing to a visible landmark you want to paddle to following a compass course, that’s because…it is!)
Great. We have our bearing off Canoe Rock. So now what? So now, we’re going to transfer that bearing into an LOP on our chart.
Using a hiker’s compass to transfer a bearing onto a chart as an LOP. We keep the bezel dialed to 224°, from when we “shot” our bearing to Canoe Rock. Keeping the meridian lines on the bottom of the compass bezel as parallel as possible to the red magnetic North lines on the chart, we put one edge of the compass baseplate on the Canoe Rock landmark on the chart. That baseplate edge is now a Line Of Position. Where that LOP intersects the shoreline is our location. In this case, the baseplate doesn’t quite reach to Pender Island, so we extend the LOP by eye and pencil it in. (Notice that we don’t care about where the compass needle is pointing now: we’re just using the compass bezel and baseplate as a protractor.)
Woot! We are unlost! We are right where the shoreline (the first LOP) and the bearing from Canoe Rock (the second LOP) meet. High fives everyone!
BUT…
We took that compass bearing with a hand-held land compass from the cockpit of a kayak rocking in the waves (landing to take the bearing wasn’t an option on the cliffy shores). And we extended that LOP by eye from where we ran out of compass baseplate. So there have been lots of opportunities for errors to creep in. How can we cross-check our apparent position? By determining a third LOP.
Happily, our pod of paddlers includes the excellently-equipped Greta Geerweenie, so we can not only shoot an entirely separate landmark, we can do so using a more accurate instrument. Because Greta’s kayak boasts a deck compass, aligned with the keel line of her kayak. So to take a bearing, she simply aims the bow of her boat toward her chosen landmark (Pelorus Point on the east side of Moresby Island), and reads the bearing in degrees at the lubber line.
Taking a bearing with a deck-mounted marine compass. With the kayak pointing towards the real-world landmark (the orange thingie now representing Pelorus Point), we read the bearing directly from the black “lubber line.” In this case, it’s 172°. (No bezel twisting required. Because instead of the needle on a hiking/orienteering compass, a marine compass has a floating, degree-marked dial that rotates to line up with local magnetic North.)
But Greta’s opportunities to flaunt her superior gear don’t end with the deck compass. Now it’s time to transfer the bearing she shot onto the chart as that third LOP. Rather than roughing it with the hiker’s compass, she whips out her modified Davis Protractor, complete with String™ that extends much further than the baseplate on a hiker’s compass.
Using a string-equipped Davis Protractor to transfer a bearing onto a chart as an LOP. Position the protractor’s centre point over the landmark we took the bearing on (Pelorus Point). Pivot the protractor until its North-South grid lines are parallel to the red magnetic North lines on the chart. Pull the string taut across the degree reading we got with the compass (172°) on the outside edge of the protractor. Where the string intersects the shoreline is our location. Reassuringly, it’s pretty much the same place as the LOP from the first landmark showed us. (And remember how we said we don’t care about where the compass needle is pointing for this step? The Davis Protractor doesn’t even have a compass needle to distract us!)
We won’t always be paddling with a Greta Geerweenie. But we still can (and should) cross-check our plotted position wherever possible by shooting at least two landmarks as bearings and bringing them down onto our chart as LOPs, even if we’re only using a humble hiker’s compass for everything. It’s also true that in the real world, our multiple LOPs won’t usually intersect with the suspiciously perfect agreement they have in this story: typically they’ll form a triangle. You’ll know you’re somewhere inside that triangle, and as long as it’s small enough, it will be good enough for navigation purposes.
A PLOT TWIST!
Clever readers (which is all of you, of course) will have realized something: once we’ve intersected two or more LOPs based on compass bearings, we don’t need the shoreline LOP anymore to know where we are. That’s exactly how bigger, deeper boats, who need to stay further from the shore than kayaks, do it. And exactly how you can do it as you graduate from simple shoreline paddling to longer crossings. There are even other compass-free LOPs you can use when away from the shore. But we’ll save those for another post.
Plenty of sea kayakers know the bow rescue – a technique where the rescuer presents the bow of their kayak to a capsizee, so the unfortunately inverted paddler can hip flick back up using the bow for support. There are many Youtube videos showing it, and it’s taught in Paddle Canada and other sea kayaking courses.
For several boats now, I’ve been outfitting my sea kayaks with electric pumps. (My reasons are explained in the first part of this posting.)
So I’ve fitted my new-to-me Valley Etain with an electric pump as well. The overall design is pretty similar to my last pump, with a waterproof Pelican battery box designed to let me run the system on either 12 rechargeable AA batteries or 8 alkaline AAs. A stretchy Velcro strap and a pair of stainless steel footman’s loops hold the battery pack in place against the bulkhead at the back of the cockpit.
There are a few perks to being a sea kayak Instructor/Guide. Like being invited to join a focus group run by Mustang Survival. In Canada, Mustang has long been a go-to brand for recreational boaters, commercial fishers and racing sailors. But, with the exception of a manual inflation vest that’s popular with paddlers who can’t find a foam PFD that fits their body shape (or who just find foam PFDs too warm), Mustang’s products haven’t been top-of-mind in the sea kayaking market. They’re gunning to change that. Which is why I found myself, along with three fellow instructors, doing dawn patrol on a crisp, sunny fall morning. Continue reading →
Back in the day, I had a bombproof kayak roll. But gradually, I fell out of the habit of practising it. When I first abandoned whitewater and surf paddling in favour of exclusively ocean kayaking I kept it up. But over the years, I persuaded myself it wasn’t really essential for sea kayaking and probably wouldn’t work anyway with my sail on the boat. Besides, my brace worked fine (except when it didn’t.) Somewhere along the line, I convinced myself that age made it unlikely I could recapture my roll.
Displacement Hull Boat? Check. Wood Paddle? Check. Chunky PFD? Check. This must be me, surfin’ the 90s.
But this year, one of my personal and professional goals is to regain my roll. And to do it like a girl.
Off-the-shelf kayak lights are an excellent way to increase safety when night paddling. By raising your light a few feet above the deck you can ensure it remains unblocked by your body and visible through the full 360. Plus, it won’t nuke your night vision by shining directly in your eyes. Continue reading →
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