Drew Rozell, Ph.D.

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Lake George, NY Kayak Adventure (Part 2)

August 8, 2009 drewrozell 2 Comments

(My next posts will be documenting my recent kayak adventure on Lake George, NY. Photos of the whole trip can be seen here.)

And so at 10:06 AM, we were off.

drewchrislaunch(Photo caption: Looking north. The steamboat beats us to launch).

Paddling away from shore, a shiver went down my spine — the good kind of shiver, like when you hear one of your favorite songs come on the radio. Taking in the miles of lake and mountains before us, the Tom Petty song started playing in my head…

Into the great wide open,
Under the skies of blue
Out in the great wide open,
A rebel without a clue

Indeed, in some ways I was the rebel without the clue. While I knew I wanted to experience the thrill of paddling the length of Lake George, I did not know anyone else who did it. I did not know how long it would take us. I really had no clue what to expect from this massive lake. We weren’t climbing K2, mind you, but adventure is relative.

During the planning stage, the only information I could find was of an outdoor guide who organized kayak Lake George trips. He had a photo of some paddlers on his website from a previous trip. Sizing them up from the snapshot, I assumed that if those guys could do it, Chris and I would be fine. But mostly, we were flying — or rather, paddling — blind.

Speaking of Chris…

Chris and I met in graduate school at Syracuse University over a decade and a half ago. Chris studied Clinical Psychology and I was in the Social Psychology program. We may have shared one class together, but our bond was formed as teammates on our department’s co-ed softball team (back-to-back champions!) and at the numerous parties we attended (grad students threw the best parties).

We became fast friends and through the years, we shared many experiences and covered many miles. Maine to Seattle. Philly to Providence to Puerto Rico. Vermont to DC. And who could forget the three trips to Vegas? Our escapades would conclude with Chris delivering one of his signature lines with Jon Stewart-esque timing,

“Just so you know, we’ll be burning the negatives from this trip…”

As I mentioned in my first post, when I floated the idea of this trip to my friends, Chris did not hesitate. He did not equivocate. He just said yes and bought a plane ticket from his home in D.C. It was not until we were leaving the shore that Chris reminded me that he had been in a kayak only once before, and that was on a slow moving river years earlier. His words did not concern me (Chris is fit and coordinated and the only time I saw out of his element athletically is when I took him skiing), but they surprised me.

Perhaps it spoke some of Chris’s faith in me, but the fact that he would take on a trip of this magnitude with such little experience added to the sense of adventure. While we both expected the trip to be fun, there was no forgetting that this was a trip of purpose: Come hell or choppy water, we were going to paddle this great lake from end to end. I was appreciative to be on the water with someone who respected this goal without either of us ever saying a word about it.

Our launch point was the southern tip of Lake George, the home of Lake George village, tourists, and powerboats. I’ll extol the virtues of kayaking a bit later, and while very safe, kayaks are simply small crafts that are vulnerable to the wakes from boats with engines.

Inferring from what I saw from power boaters’ behavior, few had any sense of what it’s like to be in a kayak. Many drivers would offer up a friendly way, but plow through the water close enough that we’d have to put all of our attention on navigating their wakes, trying to keep our cockpits from taking on water.

We made it to southern tip of Long Island at 12:05PM. Our pace, about 2 miles an hour, was slower than I expected, but given the lake congestion and the fact that we were just warming up, I thought we were doing fine. Our bodies, still adjusting to being in kayaking position for hours, were ready to be stretched out. With the sun shining, we stopped for a snack and a swim. We both felt good and strong and soon we departed for another 4-mile stretch to Dome Island.

dome

(Photo caption: Dome Island in the distnace. The waters calmed enough for me to pull out my camera)

Things were about to get interesting.

Boats were out. The wind picked up noticeably, hitting us from the west and pushing us off course as we paddled north. White caps formed on the waves that seemed to hit us from all directions. This was no longer a leisurely paddle; there was a hint of danger in the water.

We were now on the widest part of the lake, close to three miles across. The bottom of the lake lay 150 feet below us. Chris was trailing directly behind me and I yelled over the wind for him to pull up where I could see him.

Dark thoughts popped into my mind.

If one of us broke a paddle right here, we would be totally screwed.
I know I could pull Chris out of the water. Could he pull me out?
What in the f*ck did I get us into here?

I kept these thoughts to myself and yelled to check in on Chris. The waver I heard in the tone of his reply reflected my thoughts. Oh, yes. There was some fear with us now. Not overpowering. But undeniable.

I thought back to an event on Lake George from years past. My friend Mike and I went for a late afternoon canoe paddle to a nearby island in May. A storm moved in quickly, and to borrow a line from George Costanza from Seinfeld, the lake became angry that day, my friends. We were no more than half a mile from shore, but I could feel Mike’s fear in our canoe radiating toward my seat a few feet behind him. I recall watching Mike hit the water in what seemed like slow motion. Like going over your handlebars on a bike, I had just enough time to process my fate. In a flash, I would be join Mike in the frigid water.

I gasped audibly as the cold overpowered my body. I remember seeing my Mike’s eyes. Huge saucers of panic. The short of it is that we ended up being rescued (10 minutes? 20 minutes?) later by a man who scooped us up in his pontoon boat. Luckily, he’d seen us capsize through his telescope from shore. That day was the closest I have ever been to death (though if push came to shove, I know I would have survived), and I carry the memory with me whenever I’m on the water.

Thinking back on that day, I remembered how the fear caused our thinking and our bodies to tighten up. When the wave hit Mike in the front of the canoe, his rigid posture caused him to overcompensate. And over we went.

“Just relax!” I yelled back to Chris, reminding myself at the same time.

“Keep your body loose like a bull rider and let’s ride these bitches!”

Relaxing helped. Dome Island still sat alone and far off in the distance, its too-perfect shape reminding me of one of those monster islands from an old King Kong movie. A lesson in being present, we put our heads down and focused on the only thing of any relevance in our lives — the waves directly in front of us.

Up and down. Up and down. Paddle. Paddle. Paddle.

Despite the rough water, the adrenaline rush propelled us to cover the four miles to Dome Island in less than 90 minutes, significantly faster than the first leg of the day. We needed to get out of our boats and rest, but Dome Island made it clear that she was not interested in entertaining guests. Thickly forested with no signs of man, the island lived up to its name, rising straight out of the water like a fortress with no easy place to dock the boats.

After a struggle to bungee the boats to some low-lying trees, we got on all fours to scale the steep island wall. Because of its height and central location, English scouts reportedly used Dome Island to spy on the Indians during the French and Indian War. The forest appeared eerily unchanged from the time of that war. The only signs of life were the daddy long leg spiders that seemed to cover every inch of ground. Several climbed on me as we sat on the uncomfortable terrain, trying to regroup and plot out our next destination.

We would not stay long.

(End Part 2)

Blog, Country Living, Current Events, Freedom, Personal Life, Relationships

Lake George, NY Kayak Adventure (Part 1)

August 6, 2009 drewrozell 3 Comments

(My next posts will be documenting my recent kayak adventure on Lake George, NY. Photos of the whole trip can be seen here.)
* * *

It was time.

Finally.

After months of noodling around the idea, and a couple weeks of planning, it was time to pick up my friend Chris at the Albany, NY airport. Our goal was to paddle the length of Lake George in kayaks, camping for two nights on the islands along the way.

Nicknamed “Queen of the American Lakes”, Lake George lays within the Adirondack park and mountain range. The lake is over 32 miles long, and ranges from 1-3 miles in width. Historically, the lake played key roles in the French and Indian War and the American Revolution.

lakegeorgecarl1

(Photo caption: A majestic lake. Photo by Carl Heilman)

Locals like to quote how Thomas Jefferson wrote, “Lake George is without comparison, the most beautiful water I ever saw; formed by a contour of mountains into a basin… finely interspersed with islands, its water limpid as crystal, and the mountain sides covered with rich groves…”

I grew up around the lake. A tourist destination, I worked in the village every summer. Friends of my family (thank you, Potvin clan) owned a summer home on the lake, and some of my fondest childhood memories come spending summer days and nights on the beautiful water.

However, as we’d come to joke on the trip, Lake George is a BIG lake, not a SMALL lake. As an adult, I knew bits and pieces of it, but I did not have a cohesive understanding of the lake as a whole. I knew of dozens of mountains, islands, and destinations, but how did they all fit together? Where were they in relation to one another? And what would it be like to see the entire lake on the water’s terms, from a silent kayak?

These were questions that gave the adventure the spark to come into being. I sat outside Albany airport with the engine running, waiting to see Chris descend the escalator (it’s a wonderfully small airport). As I waited for ten minutes (somehow not being shooed away by airport security), the drops rain began to fall. It would not stop raining for the next 16 hours or so.

Chris arrived and with a smile and a hug, we were headed north to pick up his rental kayak and some gear at EMS (my favorite place to shop. I love gear. EMS has great stuff and their highly knowledgeable staff always seem to be almost as excited about your trip as you are). We picked up his kayak (a sweet ride for 30 bucks a day), some dry bags, watershoes, and some dehydrated food (Mountain House’s Chicken Teriyaki would prove to be the winner).

Kayaks with hatches have enough storage, but you need to pack light, especially because you will be transporting every ounce with the power of your shoulders, arms, core, and legs. After a visit to my home to pick up my gear and to kiss my wife goodbye, we headed north to my camp in the Adirondacks. looking ahead, the plan was to meet friends and celebrate back here at camp on Saturday evening, as my camp is only about 15 minutes from our take-out point on the northern end of Lake George.

Logistically, we needed my truck to take us to the lake and then to magically end up waiting for us back at camp, so we needed a volunteer. My friend Ted offered to help us without hesitation. We arrived at camp after 8PM in a hard rain. Ted had beaten us there, and already had the camp open and candles lit (there is no power or running water at my camp). Knowing what lay ahead, and not in the mood for cooking and cleaning, we dined on pizza and wings that I picked up on the way. Chris and I enjoyed a few Sierra Nevada beers.

The goal was to be on the lake by 10AM the next morning. We had hoped to finish packing our gear this night, but the rain and clouds had other plans, so we decided to wait until morning. We woke to the same rain around 6:30 AM, but the adrenaline of anticipation took over and we got things organized. The three of us left Ted’s Jeep behind and heading toward breakfast and the lake.

As we drove for a few minutes, the rain ceased and the sun began its work of burning through the clouds. After a lovely buffet omelet, we made our way to the southern tip of Lake George, arriving at 9:30AM. We were going launch on time!

Or maybe not.

This was Thursday morning and the boat launch was closed. No one was around. The doors were locked. I drove around in search of alternate launch sites, but there were none. There were other options, sure, but the whole point was to paddle from tip to tip. Ted, renowned in his youth for his liberal interpretations of vehicular laws, did not hesitate to offer a solution.

“Dude, just pull up over the sidewalk onto the beach wherever you can!”

A moment later, a patch of green grass exposed itself near the beach.

“Pull in like you own it, dude!” Ted advised me.

hpim0796

(Photo caption: I already look guilty…)

Dodging a tourist or two (the southern end of the lake is touristy), I hopped the curb, drove over the sidewalk and parked on the beach. In an instant, things took on the feel of a covert military operation. We needed to get unloaded and packed before Johnny Law put the kibosh on things. My heart thumped and I focused on packing the kayaks as efficiently as possible. Still, I kept one eye on the road scanning for one the of the plentiful official vehicles that roamed the town.

Having packed everything in dry bags and packing light, things were going smoothly when I heard the blast of the horn. I looked up to see the sheriff’s patrol car, but just as quickly put my head down and continued my work. Chris was closer to the patrol car and even though I knew he’d have no explanation ready, I was sure his general demeanor would strike the right tone to buy us some time. By the time he was done pleading his ignorance, we would be almost ready to go.

Apparently, Chris still had the magic touch, as the officer drove off, leaving us with a beautiful day and a large expanse of water before us.

hpim0820

(Photo caption: Many miles to go before we sleep)

The things they carried:

(A list to remember and to help others who might be planning a similar trip. We had everything we needed and everything we brought got used.)

Kayaks (2)

Life Jackets (2)

Sleeping bags (2)

Sleeping mats (2)

Mountain chairs (2)

Jet-Boil Stove

Gas (2)

Coffee filter attachment for Nalgene bottle

Coffee mug (2)

Camping silverware

Towelettes (2)

Mt. Suds (for washing, bathing)

Digital camera, tripod, and waterproof case

Multi-tool and Swiss Army Knife

Lighters (4)

Hatchet

Headlamp

Sunblock

Bug Dope

Toothpaste/Brush/Floss

Paddling gloves

Kayak shirt

Quick dry Bathing suit

Quick dry camp towel

Long pants that unzip into shorts

Sun hat

Yankees baseball cap

Water shoes

Keen sandals for land

One pair socks (bring NO cotton clothing!)

Sunglasses

Lake George maps (3) and pen

Bungee cords (4)

Tarp

Garbage bag

Unused Plastic quart bags (2)

Bandanna

Kayak sponge (damn handy)

Cell phone (Chris)

Food

5 Nalgene bottles filled with water (several frozen to provide cold drinking water along the way)

(we refilled at marinas, or took the water right out of the lake… it’s drinking water!)

Frozen bags of homemade chili for night 1 (2)

Mountain House (dehydrated food) Eggs and bacon (4)

Mountain House Lasagana

Mountain House Chicken Teryaki (2)

Mountain House Jamaican Chicken

Packets of Peanut Butter (a wonderful invention)

Ghirardelli Chocolate Bar (1)

Bag of GORP

Pepperoni and cheese

Bag of pita bread

Clif Bar (3)

Blog, Current Events, Drew's Photos, Freedom, Personal Life, Relationships adirondack park, albany airport, french and indian war, kayak adventure, kayak camping list, kayaking Lake George, lake george ny, NY, silent kayak

The Dweebs

January 15, 2009 drewrozell 1 Comment

dweebsThe Dweebs (L to R Matt, Mary, Ned, Drew aka “Dukey”, Nora)

 

This is an old photo (I probably did not have to tell you that) of me and my siblings on Christmas Eve many moons ago. (I look about 6? so I’ll guestimate this was 33 years ago).

It’s just a funny picture that captures us all — then and now? — and it brings a smile to my face to look at it. My sister Nora (far right) was good enough to scan it and send it around via e-mail this year with thoughts of appreciation.

That’s me, imitating my hero, the Fonz. While I’m not sure, this very well could be the precise night I wrote about here.  

When I think about the things I appreciate in my life, I very much appreciate that I share my life with my diverse, interesting, talented siblings.

Even if they were total dweebs…

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