Day one, 6 April 2011 - part deux

If anyone is reading this, you might have wondered, "How did he get home from work?  Did he paddle?  Was it dark out?  He was going up river, right?"  If you didn't wonder about any of those things, then you may want to choose something else to read.

The sky was still bright when I walked away from the Kennedy Center, crossed Rock Creek Parkway, and walked the short distance to Thompson Boat Center.  It was like I was returning to a completely different facility than the snoozy one I had left my boat at that morning.  At this time of day - around 6pm - Thompson is a beehive of teenage rowers.  Kids are all over the place inside and outside of the boat house, and in and out of the water.

I pulled down my kayak from its rack, acutely aware of dull soreness in my back and shoulders.  Carrying it down to the water, I weaved through crew teams and dropped the boat into the mighty Potomac off the upriver end of the dock.  Just getting away from the dock was like a game of Frogger (for all you video gaming old-timers) because 8-person sculls were rowing up to the dock at what seemed like 15 second intervals (minor exaggeration, but only minor).

Once I was out in the river, I immediately answered the question I'd carried in my mind all day: "Should I paddle home on the river, or on the canal?"  The strong, chilly wind was lifting a 6-inch chop from the surface, and I was not up for fighting my way through that on my maiden upriver voyage.

I turned downriver, re-crossed the line of hard-charging teenage crew teams, and paddled into the mouth of Rock Creek at Lock 1 of the C&O Canal.  As soon as I paddled up behind Thompson toward the House of Sweden, I was relieved to find that I was sheltered from the wind, and that I was greeted by a Kingfisher, dipping and diving its way back and forth across the creek - barely above my head.  A good omen for sure.

I won't bore you with the details of the brief stretch of Rock Creek that leads up to the true mouth of the canal at Lock 2, beside/behind the Four Seasons Hotel.  From there, I had to take my boat out of the water and carry it three blocks through Georgetown to the top of Lock 4.  I got some strange looks from passing bikers, pedestrians, and particularly from the cabbie who honked at me as I crossed in front of him on Thomas Jefferson Street with a big, yellow kayak on my shoulder.

At Lock 4, already winded and increasingly sore, I dropped the kayak in the grass alongside the canal for a breather.  Noticing that I was right up the block from Baked and Wired, I popped in for a nut bar and an espresso. Solid.

Fueled up, I put the boat back in this placid, continuous section of the canal and began the meat of the journey home.  The first stretch, in Georgetown, is fantastic because there are lots of people enjoying the canal - walking beside it along the towpath, and paddling in it.  Several skilled, fit, and elegant paddlers cruised smoothly by me, bruising my ego while informing my technique.  I also passed a group of novices taking a class, just above the Potomac Boat Club.

As I left Georgetown behind, falling in to a rhythm and pushing on towards the Palisades, I had a powerful realization: You can buy a boat, but you can't buy fitness.  I was already pretty fatigued, with a long way still to go.  Judging by walkers and joggers along the towpath, my pace was quicker than a walk, but slower than a jog.  Ugh.

It took a good, long time to round a bend and see Fletcher's Boat House.  Now I knew I could make it.  Only moments after passing under the bridge at Fletcher's, I could see the Crescent Trail bridge at Arizona Avenue - the termination of this paddle.  Pulling the boat out of the water, I was momentarily elated.  Then, I hauled it onto my shoulder to lug it up onto the Crescent Trail, across Arizona Avenue, up through the steep, wooded hill of the park, and finally to home.  Double-ugh.

Huffing, puffing, and questioning the wisdom of commuting on the river, my spirits were lifted when Si and Eva charged out from behind a tree to greet me screaming elated congratulations and welcome - undoubtedly the best part of the maiden voyage.

Day one, 6 April 2011

Today I realized a long-time dream of commuting on the river, putting my boat in the C&O Canal at Arizona Avenue, and paddling to Thompson Boat Center.  The reason that the dream was so long deferred was that in order to not have to lug my boat to my office, I had sumbitted my name to the waiting list for a rack space at Thompson back in 2004.  While I have paddled the route before, I had only done so on weekends when I could be met by someone with a car, so that I could take my boat out, strap it onto the car, and drive it home - not exactly the full-on, eco-friendly, Potomac-loving dream.

Then last week, after a seven-year wait, I was offered a rack space (I gratefully accepted!). Now everything has changed.  Today I left the house early with my boat on my shoulder, walked to the canal, dropped the kayak in the canal, and the dream became a reality.

The inspiration for this blog is simple: the river is different every day.  And because I will be traversing the same stretch of the river over and over again, I have an opportunity to document that difference.  In addition to appreciating the natural changes, I will also note the man-made differences - particularly garbage or other noticeable pollution.

Here we go...

The morning was clear and bright, and the river was placid.  The recent rains and high waters seem to have flushed out any garbage in this stretch.  Both banks were littered with dead-wood detritus, but little to no noticeable trash.

Notable brushes with fauna included paddling past colonies of cormorants.  The scene was right out of a documentary on the Galapagos Islands, as the birds numbered around 100 in each of the two groups I encountered sunning themselves on rocks protruding above the surface.  The next surprise was a close-range fly-by of a quick, blue kingfisher making its funny clicking/chirping call.  The last encounter came when I passed under Key Bridge to find three 8-man sculls and a coach in a Boston Whaler coming at me fast.  I aimed over towards Roosevelt Island, and followed that shoreline until I crossed back to the D.C. shore at Thompson Boat Center.

The notable brush with garbage was a bright blue thing about 2 feet long bobbing at the surface.  When I paddled over to pick it up so I could put it in the trash, I found that it was a smooth stick reflecting the clear, bright blue sky on its wet surface.

A glorious first day of this ongoing river commuting adventure.