Here on the Oregon coast I spend so much time buried up to my eyeballs in foam that it’s easy to forget that my sea kayaks actually have other uses besides surfing. Left to my own devices I would do nothing but work compulsively and surf. So when my buddy Kiliii asked me to run safety for his wild foraging kayak trip in the San Juan islands, I had a hard time saying yes. He sweetened the deal by offering himself and his interns for two days of hard labor on my farm. Five people can get a LOT done in two days and staring out my window at a sea of sprouting blackberry and undug garden beds the temptation was irresistible. Hey, I thought, maybe I’ll even learn something on the trip.
Our first afternoon was spent with fully loaded kayaks doing nothing but rescues. Everyone learned quickly the limitations of rescuing loaded skin boats in windy and choppy conditions. By simply practicing in real life conditions one easily discovers all the little things that can mean the difference between success and failure in a real rescue.
The curl rescue seemed the only viable option for dewatering a flooded loaded skin kayak, but it took a while to get the techniques dialed. With eight people actively rescuing, we’d stop every ten minutes and share our observations, and then apply them to the next round. Within two hours the rescues were reasonably clean. It heartened me to see that six out of eight paddlers had reliable real world rolls and even when the rolls failed they knew how to wait for an eskimo rescue.
Being wet and cold really put peoples immersion gear to the test. Being young and marginally employed Kiliii’s interns have to make do with farmer johns cut from old wetsuits, old fleeces for an insulating layer, old rain jackets for wind protection, and old PFD’s from other water sports. Some of this stuff worked just fine, some of it I replaced from my considerable gear stash.
Kiliii utters the fateful phrase “Hey guys, watch this roll.” and then…
On our second day we took the ferry to Friday Harbor and paddled to Jones Island. We had to paddle late in the day to catch favorable currents, here is Zach landing at Jones.
One of the more miraculous things I’ve witnessed, I scooped this seemingly dead dragonfly out of the water on the way to Jones as my arm swept down for a stroke. It lay lifelessly plastered to my cuff for an hour and I payed it no mind, then I noticed that it seemed to have moved. I pulled out my point-and-shoot and snapped this photo just before if flew away.
Yes, these are tortillas, soaked from a not so dry drybag, we successfully dried them all. A little saltier but no worse for the wear.
Zach took charge of cooking. These makeshift pots are known as ‘billy cans’, and having used them for a week I cannot detect a function disadvantage over the pricey campers cooksets.
Paddles are lashed into a tripod to suspend the billy cans.
On Jones I show the crew how to use current tables, charts, a compass, and a VHF marine forecast to make a navigation plan for the day.
Of course every navigation plan should include a consultation with the local authority.
I realize the difference between me at 30yrs old and the interns at 20yrs old when I see them swimming happily in the 50 degree water.
Moments before leaving for our next jump to Sucia island, someone spots a clam spout and the dig is on!
Claire finds a big one.
On the next days crossing the guys get a healthy respect for the conditions when we encounter a strong current and headwind sweeping past the west tip of Sucia island. It takes a triple linked tow to get everyone around the corner. “Was that hard?” I asked, and they nodded in agreement. “That was twelve knots of wind and a two and a half knot current going in the same direction, now imagine 20 knots of wind against a four knot current and you get an idea of the trouble you can get into here.” I could see a new understanding register in four sweaty faces.
That night we camped in Echo Bay on Sucia island and were treated to this beautiful sunrise the next morning. With so many people vying for the same resource the San Juans can hardly be called a wilderness, I don’t mind the cruisers though, I grew up as one.
We discover that our current tables got soaked in a leaky chart case and we carefully peel the pages apart and stuff them with grass to dry.
Thaddeus leads a nature hike and stops us to identify wild edibles and useful plants, as well as poisonous ones.
On the other side of the island Jack and Noah contemplate the crossing to Patos.
Noah spots limpets on the sculpted sandstone rocks below and he and Jack quickly scramble down to collect the tasty creatures.
Jack pries them loose from the rock.
Limpets are still plentiful in the San Juans.
On the way back to camp I spend a little too much time exploring close up things and I look up to find the group is gone, so I have no idea what any of these plants are.
On my way back to the campsite I came across this umiak, built on Waldron island, this weekend it was filled with school children and rowed to the island for a camping trip.
With dozens of miles of twisted sandstone shorelines, the natural sculptures and caves make Sucia island a paradise for little kids.
Back at camp Taylor has caught and is eating a rock crab. People have been exploring the tideline and collected bounty of tasty sea creatures.
I eat my first raw oyster.
The texture is revolting, but the flavor is actually pretty good.
In twilight and firelight Kiliii and Taylor plot the morning jump to Patos island.
Paddling out from Sucia in the morning we pass this 25ft wooden sailboat, the Lizzie Hawker. It’s love at first sight for me, and I tell Taylor “If I had that sailboat I would need nothing else in this life.”
Stiff winds were predicted this morning but we manage to sneak across to Patos island on calm seas. Our group consists of five kayaks built under Kiliii’s tutelage and three of my F1 prototypes. At home in the surf I am always refining the design and boats from even a month ago are considered worthless, my judgments are a bit harsh. It was nice to see that even the older boats toured beautifully and made me appreciate my work much more.
Noah is always leaping ahead. I told him, “If you don’t stay with the group I swear I’ll tie you to Claire and make you tow her.” I made good on my threat several times during the trip, which worked well for both paddlers.
The group pushes forward, we are on a ferry angle here which is why there is no destination visible in the distance.
After the early crossing (anything earlier than 10am is an early crossing for these guys), a fire is built and water is boiled for oatmeal.
I paddle around the island to find a swarm of people fishing from motorboats, I briefly drop a line only to retrieve this tiny copper rockfish, I let him go only to see the boat next to me catch and keep him a few minutes later. Rockfish population along the entire west coast have collapsed but people are still allowed to fish. It makes me furious. I still fish near shore on the Oregon coast but I may even quit that. Everyone you talk to has some elaborate rationalization about how it’s not really so bad or how it’s not their problem.
I paddle back to camp and stash my kayak behind and rock and wander over to see what other people are doing.
Noah and Jack are practicing rolls. I am impressed by their tenacity and wish this kind of motivation were more common.
In the afternoon sun humans beach themselves to rest on these warm pebbles.
Back at camp someone has cooked up some oysters and mussels.
I like them much better cooked.
While shelling clams for dinner Kiliii discovered this tiny parasitic crab that lives inside a clam. It was the only thing that I’ve ever seen gross Kiliii out, and that’s saying something about a a guy who will eat almost anything (whole mice, seagulls, roadkill).
Seaweed drying over driftwood.
Kiliii stripped some bark off of a fallen cedar tree and showed me how to make this strong natural cord.
That evening we feast on two huge billy cans of fresh clam chowder.
Thaddeus and Claire in perfect light.
Kiliii entertains with his guitar.
Zach entertains with, um, performance art.
Jack declares his omnipotence.
Noah demonstrates the awesome power of the Kundalini.
Claire shows us her luck with this clover.
The ultimate evening pastime however is pebble baseball.
The sport is really irresistible and soon we are all whacking pebbles which make the most delicious zinging sounds when you hit them just right.
Kiliii blasts one into the sunset.
The next morning it’s time to leave and we pack up. Kiliii and the interns still have five more days. Thaddeus and I have work to go to so we leave the group for a twenty-seven mile paddle back to the mainland. I leave all the charts and navigation gear with the group so inevitably we get a little lost on the way home.
Conclusion: On this trip I learned useful native skills, a few edible plants, and gained a renewed respect for the functionality of do-it-yourself paddling gear. Before the trip I even made my own tow belt, which cost me a fraction of a commercial belt and works just as well. On the trip I struggled to understand the value of wild food harvest, especially in places as heavily impacted as the San Juans. I did, however, appreciate the choice that wild food poses, when you eat wild you are directly responsible for the impacts of your activities. It would be like going to the grocery store and with each purchase you get all the gasoline and fertilizer that it took to make that product and then before you can eat it you have to go outside and dump that stuff down the storm drain, and afterwards you have to throw the packaging in your backyard. What is less ethical? Whereas I see local organic agriculture as the plausible future of food, wild harvest carefully practiced has a lot to offer both in the nourishment of our bodies and our minds. Also, many of our everyday products could be easily replaced with natural ones, decreasing our reliance on plastics and other toxic material and freeing us from the need to work to buy those products. Instead our time is spent making the cord/basket/pot/house/kayak/etc, and in doing so the thing becomes not only a finished, nontoxic product, but also the culmination of a series of relationships and experiences. This process of interaction breathes life into a world where the intermediary of currency has erased our connections to our resources and each other. In the search for wild food and the rediscovery of indigenous technologies we discover ourselves as citizens of nature as opposed to merely tourists.
