Seat Repair

A few months ago, I had to take the Gemini SP out of circulation because the backband broke.

More precisely, the part of the seat pan that one of the bolts attached to had sheared clean out. I mentioned this in my post about the Rendezvous event, but for various reasons I didn't finish the repair until January.

First I emailed Valley, and they suggested replacement. Honestly, I was angling for some sort of free or warranty repair, but that's not how the kayak world works. In any case, they're in the UK and I'm in the US, so I was directed to the nearest Valley dealer, Kayak Centre of Rhode Island. Matt Bosgraaf set me straight, and even sent along a pair of bolts later on, that I'd forgotten I'd need.

Some people have been unclear about what I mean about the "seat pan". There are several ways to mount a seat in a boat; the true enthusiasts will situate some carved foam, but I wasn't ready to do that. Basically it's a butt-shaped bucket.

Here's the replacement, upside down and backwards.

The Replacement.

I noticed some spider cracks on the right. Asking around on a sea kayaking forum, comments were generally split between "that's just a byproduct of the manufacturing process, don't worry" to "no that's terrible, send it back." I wrote Valley again with a picture, and they said, in effect, the former. By this point I hadn't paddled the Gemini for a couple of months, so I decided to install the seat.

Area of Concern.

Doing so would require some non-trivial effort. First I had to remove the old seat.

Look! A ball in my cockpit.

I started by removing the hip pads. These are held on with small straps, so that was easy. This is from the broken side, and you can see a hint of zip-tie poking out - but we'll get more into that later.

Hip Pad.

Next I had to remove the four screws that hold the seat in. Imagine the seat is a U, and it's an undersink mount, the top ends attached to the underside of the deck. Two small plats underneath act as sort of lateral washers.

I was nervous about doing this over floorboards with gaps over the open river, but also, it was cold, and I was determined. So, I was careful, cupping my hand under each thing that might drop.

One side detached.

The opposite side, still attached.

I did most of this with a cheap household repair kit. I need to get a better one - the bits don't stay in the driver! I tried using my Gerber but it wasn't comfortable, nor ratcheting.

Cheap ratcheting screwdriver.

Here, on the "good" or unbroken side, you can see how the backband normally attaches. Basically, a bolt with a washer goes through the strap and holds it fast to the sides of the seat pan.

This is what it is supposed to look like.

The backband also attaches to the middle of the seat pan, almost straight down range from the business end of your bum. This proved to be one of the more challenging things to remove, because an inch of foam is on the opposite side, and I couldn't do anything more than rotate the bolt until I removed the foam

Backband above, seat pad below.

The backband also secures via bungie through a small hole in the back of the coaming. It's held fast with a knot tied through a thing. I don't know what this thing is called.

Support for the backband.

With the backband no longer attached to the boat, I was able to slide the seat out. It took some doing - sliding it forward to a slightly wider part of the boat, then rotating. It weren't hard, but it weren't easy neither.

The seat pan removed.

Now that the old seat pan was fully removed, I could see the damage in full light. The round hole is supposed to be there. The square hole above it is not. From what I can tell, the entire square, approximately 1" by 1", popped at once, and shortly after, the fracture between that and the circle formed.

You can make out the black zip ties that I had used to keep the backband in place at the time, but these were only temporary. I found that they not only wore out quickly, but put more strain on what was left of the seat pan, since they didn't have a washer and bolt to distribute the load more evenly. Basically, the edge they looped around would saw away, and the zipties could put the load on the narrow edge they looped around. It was a mutually destructive relationship.

This is not what it is supposed to look like.

Last step: taking the bandband off the old seat.

With the seat removed, I could finally flip it over to get at that pesky bold holding the backband in. To do that, I had to remove this foam padding from the bottom.

This block of foam is all that's between the seat and the keel.

Not so hard once you can get to it!

This little nut attaches the backband to the lower part of the seat.

Now, "getting to it" meant I had access. I still had to use a small vice grip to hold the nut in place while I removed the bolt. At the time, it didn't occur to me that I'd have to take the foam off.

Foam bent back to access the nut.

At last, side by side comparison of the old and the new seat pans. Looks like a match!

Old and new. Maybe I should lease?

One minor thing I had to do: there are two small loops of rope tied on at the front; these made for good handles when I had to tug the old pan free. To transfer them, I undid a knot on each, and slid them through.

I noticed an intriguing aspect that I think made these much easier to re-tire the knots: beveled ends.

I appreciate engineering details.

Knowing that I'd have to have access to that nut again, I poked and widened a hole in the underseat's foam block before gluing it back on.

For a hole in the seat-bucket, Eliza.

All of the above is as far as I got on the first day. It was a cold day in December, and I needed to let the glue dry between the foam and the seat, before I could install the seat.

Between my work schedule, weather, and social obligations, it was a full two weeks before I went back to actually install the new seat.

When I went back, I pulled the boat out to the deck in the club's garden, so I wouldn't be over water, and laid out the bits I needed to re-install.

Backband bolts in the Sephora case, side mounts below.

I like to organize my materials before I start. Off-camera, my boxes of tools on a ledge.

It looks more refined without the fittings for a human.

One concern is, I'm still using the old backband, which means I've got the strap that chafed against the zipties for a couple of days. I ended up folding some gorilla tape over the end, before re-attaching to the seat pan.

Hmmmmm........

Now, unfortunately, low temperatures seem to have put my phone into a coma, so I don't have more pictures. However, installing the new seat was fairly straightforward, mostly a reverse of the removal. I do have a one more tip to share, though.

Lining up and bolting the side mounts was really tricky. About three photos up, you see a pair of metal plates with bolts through them; those bolts go down just to the side of the coaming, holding the seat's sides against the interior of the deck. Those plates help distribute the load.

The hard part is holding those plates up while also holding a nut in place while driving the bolt in from above. It's a tough angle, and I couldn't reach my arm in - just my fingers through the circular hole in the side. This is all out of sight, because of the seat pan.

Eventually, I devised a method of using a piece of tape folded back on itself to stick the plate onto two of my fingers while the other two held the bolt just long enough for the bolt to get some bite.


I'm happy to say that the replacement seems to have gone well. I've had that boat in the pool a couple of times since, and also on a 7nm journey in the lower harbor of NYC to check out some seals. Time will tell, but I think this is one repair I can check off as well done.

Rendezvous 2017

I was very happy to attend the Midcoast Sea Kayak Rendezvous in Georgetown, ME, this year. Hosted by John Carmody, the Rendezvous brings together top coaches from all over the sea kayaking world, with dozens of attendees sorted into groups who rotate through sets of coaches each day. I've been to the area several times, and this was only my second visit to the Rendezvous, and I had a blast. For bonus fun, Mister Cowgirl came along, and got to fine-tune some of his sea skills.

Coaches I worked with: Nigel Robinson, Jerry Polinsky, Russel Farrow, Steve Maynard, Caroline Zeiss, Andrea Knepper, Kevin Beckwith, John Ozard.

In my pod were some familiar faces, mostly chaps who completed or were working towards their Four Stars: Bruce, David, Mike, and some new faces.

I stayed with some friends in a house up the road from the campground, shared it with some friends and new faces. Definitely doing that again!

The biggest challenge was the overall weather. It was too nice! Sunny, winds F2-F3, long period swell. For paddlers looking to challenge themselves in conditions, it was a bit too easy!

I didn't take many photos, and none from being on the water. I'm trying to keep my deck clear and streamline my kit, so cameras take a low priority.

First of all, there was the road trip.

The Saab is loaded.

Now, it's actually loaded.

COLREGS-Compliant: Red on Right is Wrong.

Bundled up for an early start.

We picked up Jean, of Two Geeks Three Knots. her boat was coming on another friend's car, but that friend was delayed enough that she'd be getting in late.

There's a lobster hiding in the back!

Arrived and Registered in Sagadahoc Bay!

THE HOUSE
We'd gotten a late start on reserving camping at the campgrounds, which were full. Fortunately, the daughter of one of the owners had a house nearby, and was willing to rent it out. It was a little complex, with some people arriving later and staying later, thanks to Bea for getting it all sorted - we stay in a house, with heat, and hot showers.

One of our housemates was a T, a lanky fellow from the UK by way of Montreal. Turns out a New Yorker had sized him for a greenland paddle, and I was the paddle mule.

Like Christmas in Maine.

The maker's mark.

A long paddle.

At one point I had that thing on the subway, and had to lean it at about a 70 degree tilt just to clear the ceiling. I gave up and ended up taking a cab. T brought genuine Canadian Maple Syrup and popcorn as a thank-you, though! Werf it.

The next day, we sorted into our groups, by color. Mister Cowgirl was in the Purple Group.

DAY 1
A bit of surf with Nigel Robinson, Jerry Polinsky, and Russel Farrow. We set out from Sagadahoc Bay warming up, estimating distance and time to paddle it, and then paddling west towards Popham Beach, where the Kennebec River meets the sea.

At the mouth of the river are a couple of large rock islands, and a bend in the river the results in a pretty stiff tiderace. We ferried over to one of the rocks and then spent some time in a wee tiderace, current carrying us NW. Eventually, we backed off of that, ferried over to a large green buoy, and then surveyed the surf along Popham.

It was  . . .interesting, and a challenging read. For one thing, the inbound current was flowing north-ish, almost parallel to the beach, but the ocean swell was coming in from the SE. On a chart, it was clear that there was a long, low sandbank, and as the swell hit that, it would turn and roll in at a complementary angle to the primary surf. Additionally, the transition to that long low back was abrupt.

The result was somewhat messy but organized. Waves would form and break pretty far out, then hurtle in towards the beach. Waves came from two different directions, converging like a pair of scissors at one spot on the beach. The current would move us sideways as we waited, and a bit while surfing in, left to right as we faced the beach.

So - eight ball in the corner pocket time. And I gotta say, I nailed it, starting my line to the left, surfing in, backing off, then catching a complementary wave from the ride, landing on a nice, chill patch of sandy beach.

Later on, as we rode in the waves, there was one surprising bit of swell that picked me up and ran me in. I braced for what seemed like forever, then tried coming off too soon and capsized. I whiffed on my roll but found I was shallow enough to quickly pole up and paddle back out.

Later, when we relaunched from the beach for lunch, I felt a *POP* and my backband gave way. I paddled out past the surf zone - our given exercise was to stay and paddle in the surf zone - and saw that an 1"x 1" panel of plastic had sheared out of my seat bucket, including the part where the bolt goes in. While I managed to fix this with zip ties, this issue haunted me the rest of the weekend.

Popped clean out.

Bolt and washer, still in place. 

After our surf session, we paddled back to camp, arriving with enough water left to paddle in. Sagadahoc Bay gets awfully muddy on a lower tide level.


DAY 2
Our second day paired us up with Steve Maynard and Caroline Zeiss. Early on, rumors were buzzing and turned out to be true. We were paddling out to Seguin Island!

Seguin Island is about four nautical miles south of our campground, a large set of rocky cliffs with but a single sheltered area to land. There's a lighthouse on the top, and a small, defunct boathouse near the landing. It's a proper journey, with a lengthy open crossing, as well as some ledges along the way to play with and navigate against.

Challenge #1: Waiting for the tide to come in.

We paddled out, playing a game of, basically, leap frog, to keep in position and warm up a bit. As we approached Seguin, we veered right in order to circumnavigate it counter-clockwise, playing aginst some features along the way. However, rather than staying and playing, we just played and kept moving, on and on around the island, then back a ways, then back on our original course, eventually rounding the final bend to land in the sheltered nook below the light.

Behind the defunct lighthouse was a long, long, long wooden track leading up to the lighthouse. After lunch, I walked up the entire length, noting the wobbly and loose boards before realizing, at the top, the the track was closed, and we were supposed to be walking up a path just below it. By this point, it was almost time to leave, so I took a couple of pictures, turned around, and left.

A long climb up.

Seguin Light.

A bell.

No kidding.

Very clear water!

The journey back was pleasant and uneventful. As we approached Sagadahoc Bay, we realized the tide was dropping, and if we lingered too long we'd be caught out in the mud. We managed to get off in time, and debriefed in a little gazebo overlooking the bay - whereafter we spotted the other groups coming in, and we started to wonder who would make it in before the tide ran out.

Sure enough, a few didn't quite make it.

Low tide.

DAY 3
The third day was our short day, as everyone would want to be off in time to clean up, pack up, and start long drives home. We were paired with Andrea Knepper, Kevin Beckwith, and John Ozard. I've met Andrea before, and paddled with John, but Kevin was a new acquaintance.

The tidal situation was such that there wasn't much to play with. High tide was in the early afternoon, which meant that at most we'd catch the back half of the flood cycle and be off shortly after. The weather was similarly benign - there weren't big Low pressure systems kicking up shorter period waves offshore. We were challenged to find something close and interesting.

We set out from Reid State Park, and basically played around some rocky features - first, Griffith's Head, then up along the coast. I practiced paddling as close to the shoreline as I could, and sure enough a large swell, about my height came along broadside. I braced into it but capsized; I think what must have happened was, as I was alongside a sloping rock, and as the wave hit me it also lifted and dissipated, so I lost my support.

I ended up in a position to roll up on my weaker side, but I though for a moment and thought 1) that's my weaker side, but also 2) I'd be swinging into rocks and, I think, coming up against the next waves. Thus, I swung around and rolled up on my strong side, positioned to brace into the next oncoming wave, which wasn't necessary.

More than one person later remarked that my practice roll looked pretty good. Was it intentional? "Well, the recovery was intentional, that's for sure," I said.

Somewhere in all of this, that pesky backband gave way again. The zip ties that I'd used to secure the band to the pillar had broken use, and Kevin had us try a repair at sea. now, in hindsight, we futzed around with it longer than necessary, but ultimately it took one coach supporting my boat while I sat on my back deck to get better access to the operating theater - it's hard to work on something immediately next to your waist.


Assorted Musings
Always, always, always look up your own tidal and weather conditions.

I am adding zip ties to my small repair kit. I've been so focused on patching holds and snapped paddles that it never occurred to me to need fasteners.Maybe some paracord too.

No Strangers Here

A variety of new acquaintances was the theme of our Labor Day journey. I brought along two friends from my paddling club, but most of the paddles we were with that day were new to us. "No strangers here, only friends who've not yet met", goes an adage posted in many fine pubs.

The trip was put together by my friend JK, one-half of the dynamic duo over at Two Geeks Three Knots. She's working towards her British Canoeing Sea Leader award, which requires a logbook of trips led or assisted in varying conditions. She had along a couple of friends, some paddlers from her local club, as well as the three of us - myself, KW, and GH.

Together we loaded three boats on the Saab "paddle wagon" and drove up to Mamaroneck, NY.


The overall trip plan was to paddle from Horseshoe Harbor in Larchmont to Great Captain Island, which is part of Greenwich, Connecticut. That distance was about eight nautical miles each way, which in  itself wasn't a concern. However, the prospect of Force 4 - 5 winds in the afternoon, coupled with expected end-of-holiday traffic and boat logistics for our team, meant that our group opted to put in at Mamaroneck, literally next door to another paddling friend (AD) who might have joined, but backed out having gotten home late the night before.

The three of us unloaded the car, kitted out the boats, and soon enough we were on the water.

KW in a Current Designs Sirocco.

GH in the other Current Designs Sirocco.

I brought along my Tiderace Pace 18. Since I repaired the rudder, and since we'd be on a longer journey in more open conditions, I wanted to get back in it and re-familiarize myself with its performance and handling.

We paddled out of Mamaroneck Harbor to look for our friends.

Cormorants Drying on a Rock.

Off in the distance, we saw a group of kayakers approaching from the southwest. About half a dozen, and as they approached I was certain I saw AB's distinctive bright yellow blades. We paddled over and discovered . . .they weren't the pod we were looking for.

It turned out that there were another group of friends who had put in earlier in Mamaroneck, on their way back from their own wee journey. We knew some people in common and will get back in touch that way. The sea provides many thing, including new paddle partners!

After that encounter, we played around a rock for a bit until we sighted another pod in the distance. Catching up with them, we found our group! JK and company, making their way to Parsonage Point, where we waited to hear from AD and made introductions.

There were A and L, a couple transitioning from recreation kayaks to sea kayaks; A, in a fancy wooden racing-style kayak that was painted black and red; B, a familiar face in her brilliant Valley Avocet LV, and AW, a member of JK's club.

The day was warm and sunny, with clear skies. Once we determined AD wasn't going to make it, we rounded the point and made our way towards Rye Playland, a seaside amusement park in Rye, New York.

A brief sip and then we're away.

Modern Kayaking. 'Gram it!

We took a brief spot on the beach at Rye Playland. We were able to talk over and use proper restrooms, which was a pleasant surprise for those of us expecting more of a field stop.

A and his fancy wooden racing kayak.

At this point both A and AW took their leave and returned to Larchmont. Those of us remaining saddled up and rounded the next headland to begin the last leg of our journey.

Our next major concern was harbor traffic. Greenwich has a lot of recreational boating, and with it being the last major holiday weekend of the summer, we kept our eyes open for volume of boats as well as poor piloting. For this here New Yorker, the idea of "boat traffic" meaning recreational vessels and not commercial vessels was an unusually concept. Not unheard-of, but still not what initially came to mind.

Great Captain Island has a working lighthouse on it, as well as a salt marsh in the middle. It's essentially a city park for the town of Greenwich, and a regular destination of the Two Geeks.

An egret stalking for lunch.

Great Captain Lighthouse.

The Two Geeks are actually friends with the keeper. Until a few years ago, the family lived there year-round, but after Sandy they've taken to wintering on the mainland. When they made the move, their daughter spent an entire year being sick near-constantly, until her immune system caught up with all the other kids.

As it happened, B's husband and son had sailed up in their sailboat, and anchored in the lee of the island. Her son and his friend swam ashore for lunch, but an attempt to ferry her husband in on the back deck of her boat resulted in a capsize and shuttling back from a fellow mariner.

After lunching on Great Captain and resting up, we set out again, passing the sailboat along the way and saying hi to our friends.

Sidling up to the Beagle.

At this point, "the slog" began. Truthfully it wasn't terrible, but it was a journey into a F4 headwind the grew to F5 by the end. We took quartering sees most of the way along, and with the tide level running out, found new rocks and squirrely patches of water. The wind was offshore, which on the one hand made it stronger, but on the other hand blew us towards shore. Seas were 2-3 feet, and the wind just made everything feel slower and more challenging than it actually was. I could look to shore and tick off the landmarks and know we were making good time, but the wind, man . . .that blew.

The Pace did alright. On our outbound leg I was pretty speedy in relatively flat water, and as wind-driven waves appeared I got some good downwind surfing in. On the way back, however, that sleek performance racer took a lot of effort to keep true. I'd weathercock a bit, and the plumb bow would bite into the water and make turning a chore, even with edging. The rudder wasn't much help either, since the back of the boat was lifted out of the water as often as not. It was all manageable, but it took a lot of management.

Paddling along the coast.

As we rounded one headland and then another, we came back into Mamaroneck, and with a final push against the wind, came around into the harbor.

And then it was quiet, quiet except for the rumble of a cigarette boat riding in, followed by a couple of small pleasure boats, all presumably seeking refuge or ending the holiday just as we were. We paddled to our beach and hopped out, making our goodbyes.

JK and B would continue on back to Larchmont. I shuttled one of A&L back to get their car, and they took out in Mamaroneck with us. We were so sheltered form the wind in the harbor that you wouldn't have know it was F5 SW on the sound. In short order we were dry and laughing and talking about other trips, and it was 80 F and sunny. We were truly in a different world than the sea.

After all that, we drove back to our boathouse and unloaded. I did have a minor mishap on the way - one of my bowlines slipped free from its hook. The hook is gone but the line remained, necessitating a roadside stop to untangle it. Otherwise, the ride back was uneventful.

We had our usual adventure moving boats back to our boathouse. With the local restaurant in full effect, we parked at the head of the bike path leading to our boathouse, and made our way past incredulous drunks and SO LOUD MUSIC before dropping everything on the deck for a quick rinse.

Overall, this was a good trip. The distance (the short leg, from Mamaroneck) was great for a day trip, the destination had its own charms beyond the paddling, and even the stiff winds on the return provided interesting seas and an opportunity for some of the newer paddlers to build confidence in conditions.