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Wednesday, May 31, 2006
At the Ocean
Gentle Reader,
Yes, it's been a while, and the fiendish "countdown meter" that Kathy has installed on the site is spinning as ominously as the National Debt whirlygig in New York. Countdowns often seem to have an ominous cast to them, yes? Countdowns to launch (the device is usually built by an aggregate of low bidders), countdowns to "milestone" birthdays (gleefully anticipated by everyone except the birthday person), countdowns to weddings (no comment) and, in my case, countdowns to dental and colonoscopy appointments (again, no comment). So the row's start date, set in ink at August 5, approacheth. But ominously? I think not. And, I have evidence!
Last weekend we were able to spend the weekend on the Outer Banks of North Carolina, and as we drove there (along with everyone else on the planet), I was mindful that this would afford me an excellent opportunity to survey a beach not unlike the one I will be skirting in New Jersey. My date of August 5 is set in stone. I will leave, rain or shine, and the whims of the atmosphere are still framing what the weather will (randomly) be on that day. As we drove south, I played the game of "what if." What if I were to be along the stretch of beach we would be visiting during my row? What would the winds and surf be like? Could I picture myself effortlessly coasting along the beach at my steady 4+ mph, assisted by a slight tailwind, just outside of the surf line yet within a short swim to shore should disaster (a.k.a. shark attack) strike? We'd be at a beach-front condo (borrowed) for three days, so it was a hypothesis I intended to test often...like every five minutes. Gentle Reader, I can be tedious in that way
I'm happy to report that over the three days, two would have been excellent for rowing. Day One, Saturday, dawned clear and calm, and the prospects of a 32 mile day in such conditions would seem excellent. The surf was steady, predictable, and shallow; pulling the boat up for a periodic stretch and swim would definitely be in the cards; getting the boat off the beach and beyond the surf line would have been within even my modest abilities. Frankly, getting back into the boat after a stretch and a swim would have been the motivational challenge.
Day Two presented somewhat more robust wave action - attentive rowing to get the best lines along the beach would have been mandatory, but achievable - and there was a fine 8-10 knot breeze from the north, one that would have been a nice boost from behind. A 32-mile day would have also been a good bet, even if without the ease of entry/exit off the beach.
But Day 3, Monday, was a different matter. Strong rollers were hitting the beach hard from the north-northeast (a good thing; anything from a northern quadrant is good), and I would have had to be many hundreds of yards offshore to be able to make steady headway....farther from shore than I would feel comfortable on such a day.
A three-day sample, hundreds of miles south of my intended route and 65 days before my launch is hardly relevant to my prospects, yet it was good to feel the surf, watch the water, and dream. No, my goal will not be met with a series of 32 mile "average" days with two on, one off...but I don't suspect that I will be able to force an "average" series. Day by day, day by day...we'll see what comes.
It was no small irony that during our visit we walked the spaces between the stones that mark the Wright brothers' flights at Kitty Hawk. The first flight of 104' or so seems ludicrously short when you walk it in 2006, but heavier-than-air flight over level ground was the magic of that moment and, as the tour guide sagely pointed out, it led to (among other things) the very possibility of the cell phones we were carrying. I thought it a most unfortunate corellation, but even more strained "Big Row" analogies are at this moment leaping to my fingertips. I won't give vent to them. You can thank me later.
I did get to test my GPS gizmo during a walk on the beach on Sunday. Here's how it worked: I placed a footprint in the sand discreetly above the high tide mark, pressed "start," walked exactly 3.5 miles up the beach, did a precise Forest Gump-like about-face, and when I returned to my footprint...voila, 7 miles on the nub at an average of 3.52 mph. This wristwatch will be teriffic for tracking pace and distance covered during the row. I guess I have the Wright brothers to thank for this service, too.
In the meantime, today I put a new head on my toothbrush, talked Shakespeare with my eighth graders, played a blues harp at a school talent show, ate a baked potato slathered with chili and cheese, serenaded car pool with my mandolin, saw Peg fete friends she has known here in Baltimore for more than thirty years, and watched her turn on the AC tonight for the first time this summer. Life is good.
Blog you this weekend. And I like what you continue to do to the Pledge Paddle.
Pulling towards August,
Mr. Frei
