A Race with Improvers

I taught a fun class near the end of September, taking students down to a little tiderace that forms under the George Washington Bridge, right here in Manhattan.

I called this an an improvers class, as everyone had some experience sea kayaking, but wanted to develop their skills a bit. The tiderace was just a bonus feature to practice against.

First, we practiced near Dyckman street, in the last bits of ebb tide, working out the fiddly bits.

A wee bit of practice.

Then, we headed south, towards to bridge.

Sally forth!

On the way.

I've mentioned the GWB tiderace before. In a post from last year, I described it a bit of a trip Kayak Dov and I took.

At the start of the flood cycle near the bridge, a wider body of water starts flowing past Jeffrey Hook, where the Little Red Lighthouse sits. Furthermore, if you look on a chart, it's clear that the hydography has a steep, banked curved in the long bay south of the bridge. The effect is that a large volume of water gets squeezed and accelerated at the hook, and the surface water piles up and back over itself. As these waves form, they appear to fall, bizaarely, back towards to flood current. As the effect builds you can actually surf upstream, and if some sizable wake arrives from, say, a passing barge, you can ride some dumpy waves in excess of 1m in height. It can be quite exciting.

For these students, it was a safe, low-consequence environment to gain confidence in somewhat rough water. What I like about the area for instruction purposes is two fold. First, there's a sizable eddy just north of the hook, making for a safe spot to retreat to or observe from, as well as a "ski lift" effect to make multiple runs practicing peelouts. Additionally, since it's a flood current, in the worst case, swimmers and boats and kit will all float back towards where we started.

Getting a taste.

Perfecting a stance.

We did have one rescue. Towards the end of the session, we did get a bit of wake that vaulted the wave heights to 1-2 feet from behind us. I shouted a heads up to my students, reminding them to keep momentum and either ride the wave or let it pass under. One was indecisive, and capsized. I was able to recover him, and called the rest over to the eddy. As a group we decided to end the tiderace portion of the session and practice rescues, with the current carrying us back to our starting position.

Taking a pumpout.

Enjoying the scenery.

Observing others.

I really enjoyed this session, and was happy to have a sizable group for instruction. It's an area I am constantly learning more about, and having a group of students with different goals and abilities pushed me to develop my coaching ability - focusing on one or two things at a time for each participant.

At the end of the day, we were treated to a weather system moving in, some potential precipitation crowding out our sunny day.

Farewell to the Bridge.

I hope to do this again next year - maybe more than once.

Instructional

You learn a stroke. Then you learn another stroke. Then another, and another, whatever order they come: propulsive strokes, turning strokes, bracing strokes. Along the way you learn how to wet exit, how to be rescued, how to rescue, how to self-rescue.

You go on trips. Short trips, long trips, so-long-you-thought-you'd-die trips, trips where maybe you did almost die or were at least at risk of severe inconvenience. You go with others, you go on your own. You see other people doing other strokes, or doing neat things in their boat, and you try to copy them and figure out what they're doing..

Then one day someone says, "can you teach me that?" And you kinda show them what to do. Then you take a class on how to teach, and you relearn all of your strokes because you don't want a bunch of people out there paddling as bad as you've been paddling. You learn how to introduce a stroke, demonstrate it, explain its purpose and block out time for students to practice. At that point, you're an instructor.

That is, until you see really good instruction in action.

I was fortunate to work with some excellent instructors at the Hudson Valley Paddle Symposium in late July. Organized by Matt Kane at PrimePaddlesports, with John Carmody of Sea Cliff Kayakers and Carl Ladd from Osprey Sea Kayak Adventures, along with other coaches I saw some very zen, very effective instruction.

Some coaches will say, they don't teach strokes. They do, but not overtly. They just go on a journey and observe. Oh my, how they observe. I had someone ask me one time if I was holding my right knee too tight against the braces, and I was. They make a mental list of what everyone's doing and give everyone individualized advice.

Then they find an area suitable for practice. Talk about what the boat is doing. Give students a simple exercise and query them on the outcome. Pedagogically, if you give someone an outcome and steps to reproduce it, they'll get anxious if they don't get the desired result. Even worse if they get it right they'll lock in that behavior: "this is what to do, always". If you give them steps, and ask them what happened, they learn for themselves. They put together what works and what doesn't, and you can give them variants; try a little more of this or a little less of that.

And of course, always, both sides, forwards and backwards.

Least said is best.

In the course of the symposium one pairing I had was with a woman who had a lot of casual recreational boat experience, and was in a sea kayak for the first time. After nearly a full day's session, she was still having trouble controlling the boat. It was hot, and she was clearly growing frustrated.

I asked her to watch me and tell me what I was doing wrong. I did everything that she was doing and got the same results she did.

"Look towards me," she said. This got me putting the boat on edge. "With your whole body!"

"Sit up straight.". OK, now I was in a stronger position, with more rotation.

"Extend your arms!" That got me more catch. By now I was edging the boat, paddling strongly, and grabbing as much water as I could. I was achieving the desired outcome.

"See," I said, "you know what to do. Everything you just said, do it."

She did, and was turning on the move and having fun playing with changing directions.

Getting students to own their knowledge is my latest challenge in teaching. I can show strokes, and I can critique strokes, but getting people to understand, in their own brains, what's working and what isn't, that's what I want to be able to do.

After all, the best instructors do.

The Tubby Hook Paddle Compay

Dear friends,

I'm very happy to announce the formation of the Tubby Hook Paddle Company. Named for a local point of land that I often paddle near, "Tubby Hook", as I call it, will be the name under which I offer commercial instruction and guiding in the sea kayaking discipline.

You can see more about Tubby Hook at the website: www.tubbyhook.com, and also on Facebook (look for The Tubby Hook Paddle Company, or just https://www.facebook.com/tubbyhook). Tubby Hook provides small-class, bring-your-own-boat instruction and guiding for beginners and improvers in sea kayaking.

What's this mean for Kayak Cowgirl? Well, I'll continue to blog and post and twitterize and what-have-you about my adventures on waters near and far. Tubby Hook is meant to be something that can grow beyond the simple of adventures of a cowgirl in her trusty kayuse.

Kayak Cowgirl's always been about having fun in, on, and around the water. As I've moved into more commercial territory with lessons and guiding, Tubby Hook's the company that offers lessons and guiding in New York City and elsewhere.

I do expect to continue working at New York Kayak Company, and with friends at Brooklyn Kayak Guides and Prime Paddlesports, as well as club events at the Inwood Canoe Club. I also hope to continue my own development as a paddler, instructor, and guide at symposiums up and down the east coast. Ya'll should see me calendar for the summer and fall. One way or another, it'll all pan out.

There are some exciting events I would like to point out. A circumnavigation of Manhattan on June 12. A two-day ACA L2 coastal kayaking course June 18-19; assessment to come at a later date. I'll be attending the Hudson Valley Paddling Symposium weekend of July 24, followed by a strokes improvement course in moving water July 30. There will be some others, but those are the main ones.

I appreciate the support I've received from my audience (of mostly friends and family) and instructors, and hope to see many of you on the water in the coming months.

Cheers,

Julie K. McCoy
The Kayak Cowgirl

The Winter Troupe

It was cloudy, nothing but clouds overhead, with predictions of 100% rain in the afternoon. "Cats and Dogs," said the trip leader, "this afternoon all hell will break loose." We planned to be back before then. With almost no wind, today was going to be a good day for a trip north, practicing skills along the way. This was a trip out from the shop at Pier 40, with two clients and three coaches.

We left about two and a half hours after high tide at the Battery, meaning we'd have mostly slack on the way up - a good way to gauge un-assisted speed of our students.

Just north of Pier 40, on the right edge of photo.

Paddling north was fairly uneventful; it may not have looked like it but it was a brilliant day. With almost no wind, and little traffic, we could practice some of the more fiddly stokes, like hanging draws and draws on-the-move.  Our clients worked on edging and bow rudders.

Sauntering past Pier 76, or about 36th street.

It was a relatively warm day for winter - air temperatures in the high 40s. The water temperature was 47 - cold, but not terrible to touch.

Nonetheless, we did not see a lot of riverfront pedestrian traffic, just a couple of fishermen.

Circle Line terminal, around 40th street.

On the calendar this was a trip to the Intrepid, NYC's retired aircraft that is now an "air/sea/space museum". The giant box on the deck is temporary cover for a space shuttle. I made my usual joke about it being the one with low miles.

The Intrepid, viewed from a kayak on the river.

Since our group was doing well speed-wise, we pressed on to Pier 96, only a few blocks further north, past the cruise ship terminals.

Pier 96 Embayment.

We took some water and took in the view before deciding to head back. By the time we were heading out, a thick fog had rolled in, and hose with lights switched them on.

Then came the rain.

Rain.

It came hard, pelting our boats and even the water rather loudly. I pulled up the brimmed hood of my drysuit. The rain wasn't bad; wind would have been worst. It lasted about ten minutes, and both the rain and the fog rolled away by the time we were past the Intrepid.

Tailgating, Kayak-style.

On the back we had our students practice edging and using edging to steer their boats. One of them had a habit of stern rudders to keep straight, and the other would do a sort of reverse-sweep/pry move that just completely killed momentum. Edging is a great way to make course corrections on the move, while still propelling the boat forward.

Actually, edging is good for a lot of things. That is just one of them.

Almost back.

When we got back to the Pier 40 embayment, we didn't go straight in. These guys are signed up for a rescue class later this winter, so we're taking as many opportunities as we can to let them practice. That requires a victim, and so the trip leader (who is also the head coach) asked me if I was prepared to get wet.

Well, I had been on the fence about attempting a roll, but sure, this cinched it.

We picked a rescuer, and I did a roll. The water was noticeably cold, and when I came up, I needed a moment to let the ice-headache effect wear off. It's only going to get colder, and I have a goal of rolling in the Hudson at least once a month this year. I'm building up a tolerance.

With that out of the way, I capsized and exiting the boa. My rescuer came over and performed a pretty decent rescue, talking me through a heel-hook. At one point, hanging on to the stern of his boat, I made a semi-faux grimace at the cold to one of the other coaches, but indicated I was OK. I have learned that its better to float my entire body on the surface. Among other things, the water is warmer than five feet below!

After talking though improvements he needed for the rescue, we had that student go in and the other rescue him. The main note for both was paddle management, and also boat control - using deck lines to dump, right, and put the boat where it needs to be for the rescue as quickly as possible.

I'll tell you, speed is key when the water is cold.

I went in one more time for the lead instructor to demonstrate a good rescue. After that, we were done - a good thing because I was ready for hot tea.

Winding Down

While things have slowed down a bit this month, the paddling season isn't over. I've had a couple of my regular 1-1 students out this month - in conditions that raised their cackles but ultimately gave them a bit of confidence. At least, I think that's what happened!

The past couple of weekends have featured a fair amount of wind coming from the west. On two separate occasions I took a student over the the Pier 26 embayment after a quick lap to ensure they were comfortable in the wind. Wind has a major effect on kayaks, generally catching the back and turning the boat towards the wind. So, for these students, having gotten good at turning the boat with sweeps and edging, this was an opportunity to practice the same when Mother Nature was being less agreeable.

They noticed that it was harder to turn away from the wind, but easier to turn to. When the wind picked up, or if ferry wake brought in higher waves, they got a chance to feel the boat broach a bit and either help or hurt their turning. This made for good fun on some of the edging practice too, though neither went in the water.

The Old Men and the Sea

Teaching at the shop, we get all kinds of comers: young, old, couples, singletons, professionals seeking escape from the 9-5 grind, hipsters looking some something even more obscure to do. So, there's a bit more variety than when I teach in club settings. In the case of this past weekend, I had two students for our level one course. R was 60. P was 78.

Whenever you start a new student, especially beginners, it's a good idea to get their goals. R was simple: self-taught, he wanted to learn proper technique. P was a little hard to believe: he was going on a weeks-long trip to Alaska in two weeks, which inlcuded a four-day kayak camping component.

"Have you ever paddled before? Kayak? Paddleboard, canoe, even surfing."

"No."

Oh boy.

So from an instruction perspective, these two presented a couple of challenges. Both were new, and on the bigger side. P was so tall I put him in our widest boat, a Necky Eskia, which while stable also tends to track very, very well - meaning I had to teach him how to stop early on. R was not as big, but on the tall side. I took a chance and put him in a Chatham 17, my go-to fits-everyone boat. However, his experience was with wider, more stable boats, so while he fit the boat, he was not confident in it. This limited his torso rotation.

We managed to step through the class. I was a little nervous because a well-credentialed BCU coach was visiting on holiday and sat in on the class. He was very nice, not interfering at all, occasionally paddling off on his own, and he gave me great feedback at the end. Still, I was a little nervous at first, even though I wasn't being formally evaluated!

Since it was high tide when we started, I had us on the south edge, but the light wind from the north proved more of a factor so I moved us to where Pier 40 blocked most of it. Highlights, from my perspective, were that I had more activity and less of me talking - and at that, I probably still talked too much. However, using my assistants, in short order I had them paddling around the embayment in circles, then lanes, and then figure eights. I felt like I got the hang of demonstrating and then sending them out while I evaluated them, and then gave them individual and collective feedback.

P had a habit of leaning back all the time. Even when I got him to understand the value of sitting upright, I'd have to remind him. R understood things a bit better, but was nervous about capsizing. He also had shades and a mustache that made him hard to read. He was actually friendly and open to instruction when I talked to him, but at first he looked like an impassive drill sergeant!

Near the end, we took a little jaunt out around the Holland Tunnel blower towards Pier 26. The students got a taste of the river. R was willing to do a wet exit, which is optional at this level. We went back, and he capsized and I rescued him. Then we went in and called it a day.

The nice part: I got a tip, which I split evenly with my assistants. Also, one of them opted for a private lesson with me specifically. That was gratifying.

First Class

I taught the first half of my first ACA class. I got my certification last year, but have only continued informal instruction and teaching at the shop on Pier 40. Last Saturday was a class that I organized myself, with support from the Inwood Canoe Club (boats, location, equipment).

I had seven students and one assistant. Conditions are tricky here because the Hudson river peaks at a current speed higher than what the level two curriculum dictates. However, a small marine offers sheltered water, and  organized the class around the slack period.

The first half was paddling skills; rescues will be next weekend.

After orienting students to where we'd be practicing, and going over boats and kits, we launched and I started with turn in place. I've had some debate with other coaches but I find this helps get torso rotation going. For new students, this is key. I tell them to remember that feeling, and we move into turns on the move: basically, sweep strokes. This is also useful when I move on to forward strokes and send them out and need them to come back - although I have another trick for that.

After that, we moved on to forward stroke. It was much easier having explained turn in place - same motion, just closer to the boat. I hd them paddle out, turn in place, and then come back. We did that a few times, and then I had them do figure of eight courses, turning one way, and then the other.

Then, to cap it all off, we did "follow my leader", where I secretly to every one of them to follow one other person. What started off as a disorganized mob quickly became a stable orbit as they lined up one after another. I broke in and told one of them to follow me, and eventually they all made it out of the marine, where we had a quick powwow and then broke for lunch.

Lunch went a little long. We ate out on the high deck. When we returned, we put one paddler in a different boat - the one she'd been in did not have good thigh braces. We launched and continued.

We started with braces. First, low brace. I had each of them try, both sides, only a couple at a time. Bracing is usually where students start to go in, and sure enough that happened. I rescued her, and we resumed, then moved on to high braces.

After that, draw strokes. Here, we split up, and I had my assistant work with half the group while I worked with the other half. I demoed an in-water recovery stroke first, and then the out-of-water recovery stroke. It's funny how this is such a hard stroke to understand, while it is so simple. We stopped at "good enough" and moved on to edging.

Edging is where we move the boat underneath us. I showed how it is different from leaning, and what to look for. After a demo, I had them buddy up and support each others' boats to see how well they could hold an edge. Edging is not strictly speaking L2 ACA - but it is so integral, I couldn't not show it. We got one capsize out of it but that was OK - she wanted to cool off anyway.

I was saving stern rudders for last, or nearly last, hoping enough tide would come in that we could paddle under the boathouse, but my timing did not match up with nature.

Last but not least, I offered up a choice: get wet, or fancy stroke. To my surprise, everyone asked for fancy stroke. I demonstrated a low brace turn, but it was clear that everyone's brain was full. The all basically stern ruddered with edge. And, that is OK. Low brace turn is a bit advanced for this crowd, and it was the end of the day.

We ended with a wet exit. All but one paddler had done wet exits in the river, so it was hear time. Minor problem though - we'd put her in a different boat, her friends' boat, and there were concerns over damaging it in a rescue. No problem, I thought - swap boats!

I popped my skirt and hopped on the back deck, then had her do the same, and get her into my boat. After some ritual procrastination, she went in, and my assistant rescued her.

With that, we returned to shore, cleaned up and put away. Feedback was good - both direct and indirect. Several members who passed my students as they were coming to the boathouse said they seemed happy and well-paddled.

I hope they retain things for next week! We'll review, and move on to rescues.

Real Assessing

So in the paddling community, there's some emphasis on assessments. Whatever the program, there are certain levels used to define a paddler's overall ability in their chosen discipline. Theres BCU (British Canoe Union) and ACA (American Canoe Association), levels 1-5 respectively. There are only so many ways to paddle a boat, and it's good to have a measuring stick to gauge skill level and establish goals. To earn these badges, a paddler finds a coach offering an assessment, and that coach puts them through their paces in an appropriate environment, and offers pass/fail/needs improvement.

However, a more important kind of assessment is not for handing out awards, but gauging conditions. There's also assessing ability, regardless of grade level. Paddling skills are perishable, and diminish without practice.

So there I was (as all good stories begin), all prepared to teach a level two course at the shop. Not ACA or BCU, just the next stage in the shop's internal curriculum. I had three students, two of whom had recently done our level one introductory course, an the third who had some paddling experience on harbor trips. OK, beginners, but not novices, I thought.

It was a beautiful sunny summer afternoon, with a flooding tide at the start of class, and steady northwesterly winds. The result was a fair amount of chop - nothing terrible, but irregular waves, and definitely not a glass surface.

I'm not going to offer a play by play; I'll offer up the highlights. This class did not go well. I feel it's important to write openly about my failures, to help me learn from them better, but to share them with others for learning as well. No one was injured, and no one died, but I came away with a bad feeling, and I figure if I did, so did my students.

First, I did not assess the environment correctly. What were to me some playful, fun conditions were, to a beginner, terrifying. I could see it on at least two of their faces, and the third I'm convinced just had a better poker face. In a level two course, a wet exit an rescue are mandatory, so I figured everyone had to be prepared to get wet. What I neglected was, not by accident. Most inexperienced paddlers still have this fear of the water, whether it's a sign of failure or a genuine fear of going in the water and drowning. I knew they'd be fine, and easily rescued if they went in, but they had no way of knowing that.

I found the part of the embayment that was least affected, somewhat sheltered from wind and tide alike. All the same, we had to reset our position several times - which meant lots of turning, paddling back, and working a bit more before we reset again. Paddling around the embayment was even more of a challenge because these students did not have the skills to deal with this level of wind, and were too terrified to push the limits of the skills that they did have.

This brings me to my second failure: I did not assess the students correctly. Any teacher knows this problem. They arrive having completed the first level. You assume they are ready for the next. Oh no, absolutely not the case, not in general, and not with these students. I didn't have the full picture when we started, but basically two students had had a single class less than a month prior, and the other had been scheduled to take the introductory class in the morning but opted for a paddleboard class instead.

Knowing that, what followed was predictable. There was very little torso rotation, and poor handling of the boat. What did I do? I chalk it up to inexperience and conditions and drilled right down the level two syllabus: leg driving, edging, applying these skills to forward an turning strokes. After the first few capsizes I decided to move those up from the end of the class, and by then I'd completely lost my rhythm.

If I was thrown off-kilter, I know the students were as well. Within half an hour I was constantly thinking, 'how do I fix this', which meant I wasn't focused on the students and teaching. Talking with my own coach later, it was clear: I should have simply made it a remedial course, worked on the basics, and found exercises to give them a sense of safety and control in these conditions. That's it. Nothing fancy to it.

Instead, I felt obligated to stick to the script. I was actually thinking I owed them something, as in, they signed up for this course, I need to give them this course. But the truth is, we owe the students nothing more than duty of care and making them better learners. Whether that's deciding to limit the venue, or working on forward stroke instead of edging, or rescues instead of rolling, the first thing to do is to assess the students and to assess the environment. For some of the people I paddle with, this would have been a great day to capsize repeatedly, to paddle against the current, and to surf ferry wake in. For beginners, reinforcement of existing skills and building the confidence to go out in something more exciting than a glass pond would have been enough.

So, lessons learned. The more I go down this path of guiding and instructing, the more conservative I become. What can go wrong? Who's with me? What's my fail plan, and backup, and backup backup? What happens after that? And then, to turn around to my charges - whether club members or paying clients or friends - and make it fun, and interesting, and seamless.

That's the challenge, and one I hope to live up to better in the future.

A Double Day

I did two fun things today - paddled in some chop, and then did some messing about in boats with a friend.

For a few days now, I've been able to see some large white tents across the river at Ross Dock. Rosk Dock is more or less directly across the river from where I live, and as I've gone about my regular commute, it was clear that something was going on over there.

Now, a sensible person might look it up on the internet. I decided to paddle over there.

This seemed like a better idea than it probably was. In fact it was a great idea. I got a later start than I wanted so there was some flood tide to contend with, but a steady southerly wind made for some chop! I took it abeam about halfway across the river, at which point I turned to do a bit of ferrying as the chop got rougher. Eventually, I landed on the little beach at Ross Dock, even littler than usual considering it was coming up on high tide.

I popped out, said high to some tourists from central New Jersey, made sure my boat was as high above the tide as I could get it, and walked over to the tents. Turns out there was a bicycle race (wheeling, as they called it in the old days), from the George Washington Bridge to Bear Mountain and back - a considerable distance.

With that, I paddled back, this time with the current - and into the waves! It was so much fun, though I did have to wait for a slow-moving southbound barge to pass. I wonder about these contra-current barges - someone is paying a lot of money to move things slowly.

I had lunch, then met with KM, one of the Inwood Canoe Club senior members (and officers). We paddled up to my "classroom" area by Spuyten Duyvil, and did a little messing about. It's how I try out ideas.

We did some balance exercises - sitting out on the back deck, paddling about. Also some rescues. I find that while most people get taught the basic X rescues, they don't know what to do if a victim can't pull themselves over the back deck, or is unresponsive. The heel-hook, scoop, and Hand of God rescues are a nice progression, and give a paddler more options.

I also demonstrated contact tows, which are useful in our club because of a dearth of tow ropes. Contact tows, and "human contact" tows, holding on to deck lines, are very useful.

When we finished up, we paddled under the Spuyten Duyvil railroad bridge. When I turned around to check KM had gotten through, I saw a fleet of kayaks! Turns out there was a group of about a dozen who had paddled up from Red Hook and were circumnavigating Manhattan together, led by Phil Geller from the Yonkers club. I saw some other people I know, and we chatted as we paddled back.

Instructing on the Hudson

I had another opportunity to instruct this weekend, this time at my "home" club, the Inwood Canoe Club. Located just below Dyckman street on the Hudson River, Inwood is the oldest continuously operating paddling club in NYC -as far as I know.

This year there has been a lot of interest among new members in getting training and certifications. Several took a class last week at Lake Sebago, and wanted to practice this week before next week's formal assessment. So, I took my notes and put together a day-long cram session, based more or less on the Coastal Kayaking (Level 2) curriculum put forth by the American Canoe Association.

Overall, it went pretty well. I had about five or six students at a time. A couple could only make the morning, replaced by others who could only make the afternoon. Those were there all day certainly got a workout!

In the morning we focused on strokes and maneuvers: forward stroke, sweep stroke, turning in place and turning on the move, stern rudders. We paddled up to a little place I like to practice near Spuyten Duyvil. It's relatively sheltered from current and other conditions, and worked well in the morning. Then we paddled back to the boathouse for lunch, rest, and some land-based discussions on signals, protection, and safety.

In the afternoon, the current picked up in the opposite direction. We spent some time on edging and braces. One long-time paddling was astonished by edging. "It changes my life," he said, going on to say, "I never thought a long boat could turn like this." Of course, he promptly capsized while turning a little too sharply without a brace, but he still loved the new (to him) concept.

My little protected area was not as protected against flood current as ebb, so while we did a little work there, I decided to move us across the river. We still drifted a bit with the tidal current, but not nearly as badly, and we managed to practice some rescues and towing. Contact tows in particular proved to be a hit, since few people have proper tow ropes when they need them.

After that, we paddled back across the water, got out, and washed up. Everyone was pretty well tuckered, but mostly happy with the results. For those going on their assessments next week, I hope it helps. For everyone, every day on the water is a day to improve skills.

For me - I learn from all my students, because everyone learns in a different way. Additionally, I got experience managing a group, and changing conditions. Not all my plans worked out, but I am more or less happy with how things did work out, and I have better ideas on how to manage things next time.

Fire Island Class

Well buckaroos, I wound up teaching a class out on Fire Island for the Appalachian Mountain Club. The AMC is an extensive organization - the New York/New Jersey chapter alone has 8000 members - that does all kinds of outdoorsy things. The group that runs their cabin out on Fire Island, near Bay Shore, had a notion to offer an introductory kayaking class, and their original instructors had to cancel at the last minute.

A mutual friend connected me with the organizers, and after some back and forth I agreed to go out Friday night, meet the students over dinner, teach Saturday, and lead a couple of short trips Sunday. In return I got free room and board - on Fire Island, not a bad deal.

My students, after a day of paddling.

The students were all novice kayakers. Some had a little experience on lakes, or in one case the East River (which is impressive), but no a lot of time. I started with the basics: torso rotation, turning in place, forward stroke, and so on, and by midday most of them were able to paddle around our little embayment in a proper figure-eight path.

In the afternoon, a few opted out to go do other activities - shop in town, relax on the beach, even sailing. It's hard to compete with sailing - the wind does all the work. However, for those who stayed, we went over bracing and rescues, and then a small number went out to circumnavigate East Fire Island with me.

Throughout the weekend our biggest challenge was a steady westerly wind that kept blowing us across the little bay we had. We'd practice, reset, practice, reset, and so on. I took everyone a little farther out to do the Raft Routine - a couple of tricks I learned from another coach to demonstrate rafting up, and the stability that comes in a rafted group.

Kayak Cowgirl giving instruction, probably "torso rotation".

I was fortunate to have a really good assistant, a member with some BCU and whitewater experience. Part of the time, I was also assisted by someone who knows the waters well. They were both great to work with, and to have available for helping shepherd the group.

Our trips were short. The wind pushed against us, so we only got about a mile each way. However, we were near proper traffic routes, and crossed in front of a marina, and so talked about how to read buoys and negotiate with traffic.

I got positive feedback overall, and that was all the sweeter for it being a group of complete strangers. If I were to do it again, with a little more noticed, I might organize it differently, but overall, this was a great chance to practice group management.