Solar eclipse, salt marsh, and a few sea lions.

May 20th 2012 was the date of the first solar eclipse since May 10th 1994, and what better way to enjoy it than to sun-gaze from a kayak on SF Bay? Doug (oceanographer and kayaker) and I left Oakland after picking up his boat at the Kayak Hotel, which is a glorified garage for communal boat storage by the Oakland Estuary. After a quick stop at a roadside fruit stand (yum! cherries!) we met up with Eddie (coastal engineer and kayaker) on the other side of the bay. The launch site was along Chesapeake Drive in Redwood City, close to the Stanford Boathouse. We parked in the shade of some trees (free parking! and launching!) and discovered that we were joined by some unusual birds making very loud squawking/groaning noises above. The sound was so ridiculous that I found myself giggling every time they started up. I would try to spell it if I could...

We set out with no ambitions other than to outlast the eclipse and test Doug's eclipse-viewing contraption. It was a breezy day so we stayed in the narrow channels that meander through the salt marsh. Power lines cross the south bay marshes in a number of places:

Eddie and the power lines.

We explored some side channels as we continued along the main channel, moving deeper into the marsh. A group of sea lions was sunning on the channel banks. When the eclipse finally started, Doug was  excited to discover that his contraption actually worked. We watched the little dark circle move across the sunspot passing through one page onto the other:

Doug using his snazzy eclipse viewer.

I like to take a more direct approach...  (proving that my camera would not explode). This clearly did not succeed at capturing the eclipse...

As we moved deeper into the marsh, the channel began to shallow and we played around in the mud now easily accessible. I gave Big Purple a nice facial (deck-cial?). Eddie's boat also got a secret facial (Shhhhh).

Amused by the amazingly smooth bay mud. Photo by Doug.

We pulled over to the edge of the channel to snack on fresh cherries and salty peanuts and periodically check out the eclipse. 20 minutes later we looked down to realize that we were now high and dry on the muddy bank. The tide had subsided significantly and the marsh was quickly emptying around us. We dragged our boats back into the shallow channel and quickly pushed our way out to the deeper areas. Not sure exactly how far we still had to venture to loop back to the dock, we decided to turn around and head back the way we came. As you can see in the map below, this was probably the right decision.

Upon arriving at the docks Eddie discovered the lovely mud facial on the back of his boat (now dried and solidly caked). After letting him wonder how he'd managed to make this mess I confessed and spend 5 minutes scrubbing it off. Cleaning off Bay Mud is like rinsing soap off with soft water.

Back at the parking lot we were greeted by the groaning birds, as well as my car, which they had turned into a Dalmatian in the 3 hours we were gone. No wonder these convenient parking spots were available! Time for a car wash.

Date: Sunday, May 20, 2012
Time: 2 hours
Distance: ~ 8 miles

Now that I'll be doing a lot of paddling in San Francisco Bay (and other large bodies of water), I think I'll start including a regional map in addition to the route map:

"A" marks the spot!

P.S. I'm pretty stoked about the new way blogger lets you view pictures in high-res when you click on them!

West Coast, meet Big Purple.

After 8 months of dry, solitary confinement in the garage in Penfield, NY, Big Purple finally joined me in California on Friday evening. She (is it a "she"? I'm not sure) was on the road for 5 weeks (jealous!).

I arrived at the beautiful Stanford Boathouse in Redwood City just before 8pm. The site was completely deserted and sun was setting over San Francisco Bay. I hopped out of my car and went through the familiar motions of clamping the saddles onto the roof-rack and threading the weathered blue straps through the cross-bars. It took me a bit longer to remember how to tie a bowline knot. Even after tying 16 bowline knots on each of 20 tarps at COE I still can't seem to remember it!

I spent the next 15 minutes sitting on the dock attempting to open my kayak lock by going through every possible permutation of 11-21-09 (or was it 23? 27?). The combo was programmed into my previous cell phone, which is now lying in the dirt somewhere in the hills behind Santa Cruz. No success... I guess I'll just have two locks attached to the cable! Maybe that will help intimidate kayak-robbers.

Around 8:15 I turned to see a truck pulling a huge trailer of boats along the winding wooded driveway. Albert, the driver, stepped out of the cab and helped me unload my boat. Her 16.5-foot length looked small amongst the rowing shells and outrigger canoes.

Albert helped me load Big Purple onto my car and left me to cinch down the straps while he delivered an antique rowing shell to another excited recipient.

It's possible that I grinned for the entire 40 minute drive home. There is something so comforting about driving down the highway with the nose of your kayak sticking out in front of you, the bowlines fluttering in the wind.