Category Archives: Adventure

If Daedalus Were a Photographer

Posted by dkrashb on

We get to sleep in today–we don’t have to be at the mountain launch until 8:30AM.  At 3:17AM, I am awakened by a dog looking intently at me, wagging his tail and a cloud of stench that makes me think he’s had an accident.  I illuminate my iPhone and find he has not had an accident, yet.  I pull on footwear, grab a jacket, and race outside with him.  We make it outside with time to spare, but I’m about to have an accident by the time Tisen’s needs are met.

I spend the next 3 hours nodding off and waking up every 15 minutes.  Tisen snores loudly at my feet.  I finally fall back into a deep sleep about 10 minutes before the alarm goes off.  I lay in bed willing myself to wake up my husband and get out of bed.  Today is a big day–Pat’s first mountain launch.

We make it to the top of the mountain and find a couple of guys from Minnesota have already launched for the first time.  They and the instructor, JC, return about the time we’re done assembling Pat’s glider.  JC goes through the flight plan with Pat again, making sure he knows exactly what he’s supposed to do.

While she launches our Minnesota classmates again, I busy myself getting my equipment ready.  There’s the GoPro helmet cam, my iPhone video camera, and, of course, my DSLR.  I’ve found a spot below the launch ramp to shoot from.  Unfortunately, I’m too close to the ramp with the 100-400mm lens to get the field of view I want.

Since I am also manning the iPhone video camera, I’ve mounted it into a TomTom iPhone mount to make it easier to hold on top of my lens.  Whatever I’m pointing at will also be the subject for the video.  Pat, aka MacGyver, came up with this idea.

I learned several things trying to shoot this launch.  First, don’t be both the still photographer and the videographer at the same time.  I couldn’t pan well while holding the iPhone mount and missed the most interesting parts of the launch with my camera.  Second, the iPhone is a fine way to make a video if your subject is no more than, say, 50 feet away.  After that, Pat was a white dot floating over the trees.  Third, keeping yourself busy with equipment really distracts you from the overwhelming anxiety created by watching your life partner of over 16 years run off the edge of a mountain.  Unfortunately, it also distracts you from fully experiencing the moment.  I felt like I hadn’t seen the launch at all.  The moment my husband stood on top of a mountain with a kite on his back and ran off that mountain like he’d been doing it all his life, in that moment, I was distracted.  I wanted to be inside his head at that moment, but, instead, I was outside, looking through a viewfinder.

Head Banging Hang Gliding

Posted by dkrashb on

 

Ah.  Another Saturday, another 5:30AM alarm, another drive to Lookout Mountain Flight Park.  Today is supposed to be a big day.  Pat will re-clear for his mountain flight, we will each do a tandem flight with a real hang gliding pilot, and then I will try to set aside my fears enough to play photographer while Pat jumps, I mean, flies off the mountain.

The gate to the training hills is already open at 7:40AM.  When we get to the parking lot, it’s nearly full.  Between the crowd and the newly formed stream running through the breakdown area, nearly every semi-dry area for set up is occupied with a glider in some stage of assembly.  We feel like we’re behind schedule.

Once my glider is assembled, I decide to carry it up to the top of the big hill instead of riding up on the trailer–I need to warm up my legs.  It’s quite a warm up!  I’m sweating and out of breath by the time I get to the top of the hill.

I do not fly well today.  I manage to do a 90 degree turn successfully and start working on reversing 45 degree turns (you turn 45 degrees to the right and then 45 degrees to the left in one 10 second flight).  I keep messing up my landings and end up banging my head a couple of times.  Thank goodness for the helmet.

Pat re-clears in three flights.  By mid-morning, I’m spent and have only passed 3 tests.  I don’t know who’s more tired, me or Tisen.  He’s been running up and down the hills all day and both of us are gimping.

We head up to the office to check in and see if Pat will be able to fly.  They send us down for our tandem flights immediately because the wind is picking up.  By the time we get there, the wind has a mind of its own.  A lone pilot bounces around in the wind, trying to land.  She gets dropped and picked up by the wind, creating the impression the glider is on an invisible string and someone up on the mountain is playing with it like a yo-yo.  We won’t be doing any tandem flights and Pat won’t be flying off the mountain today.  We head on home, me relieved.  I’m not sure I’m ready to watch Pat go off the mountain launch.

When I review the videos from today, I have to laugh.  On several flights, the helmet cam tipped over and filmed my face.  Because of the stabilization in the camera, it gives the appearance that my head is perfectly still and everything is moving around it.  For some reason, you can’t see when I hit my head, but these are funny enough (at least to me) I thought I would share a couple of rough landings from this view.  I also threw in a regular video just for good measure.  Enjoy!

Wind and Snow

Posted by dkrashb on

On January first, we turned on the heat.  It doesn’t actually kick on until today, the 2nd, since it was so warm yesterday our apartment was 72 degrees and the thermostat was set on 68.  However, the temperature starts to drop into the range of temperature even us Ohioans call “bitterly cold” by this morning.  In fact, when I check the weather in Columbus, it’s the same temperature there as it is in Chattanooga–a whooping 21 degrees.

We drive out to Lookout Mountain hoping I will have my first flight off the big hill.  We aren’t optimistic when we check the weather and see 15 mph winds predicted.  When we step outside, I figure our only hope is that the valley where the training hills are located is somehow sheltered from this wind.

But, it is not to be.  We set up my glider as the instructors watch the wind socks.  An instructor takes a test flight off the big hill and does so many dips and dives as the wind tosses him around that we all know I won’t be flying today.  Instead, I get a thorough lesson in glider preflight checks, so I at least it’s not a waste of time.

Pat helps me disassemble the glider and then we head up to the office to work on our written tests.

After spending the day working on our tests, I watch the sunset through the back door of the hang gliding office.  The door opens onto a deck that hangs over the valley.  The wind is blowing so hard the air coming through the crack around the door blows the hair back off my face.  I think about opening the door to take a picture of the sunset, but it is so cold in the office already, I can’t bring myself to open the door.  I shoot through the door with my iPhone.

When at last we leave for the day, snow is blowing through the beams of the headlights.  After a half mile or so, the snow disappears as we move into lower elevations.  We are relieved, having been forewarned that everything shuts down if there is snow on the ground–the area doesn’t have equipment to clear the roads.

We make our way home and are grateful we’ve turned the heat on already.  As we settle in for the evening, Pat looks out the window and says, “Look, honey, it’s raining sideways!”  When I look out the window, there is snow blowing so fast through the light from a street light that it really does look like sideways rain.  But, it’s snow.  Because it is only visible in the light from the streetlight, it looks like the street light is some kind of snow machine blowing snow onto the street.  It stops as suddenly as it started.  There is no snow on the ground.  Not even the grass shows a dusting of white.  So much for our first snow.

Book Smarts

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There’s an expression about being book smart vs street smart.  The idea suggests people are either smart in theory or smart in practice.  In reality, of course, no one is really all one or the other.

For example, I can study how people move their bodies up stairs, determine an appropriate exercise regimen, and create a plan that will make me better at climbing stairs using book smarts.  But I can’t actually get better at climbing stairs except by, well, climbing stairs.

Since there is no room for trial and error when hang gliding, knowing what we’re doing and why helps.  And, since hang gliding truly is the application of physics, it makes sense that getting rated as a pilot would require some book smarts.

Here is where I run into a line that divides book smarts from street smarts.  I am able to read the material through once, review it quickly, and then score what would be an “A.”  However, when I return to the training hills, I am unable to translate what the material said into what my body does.  This disparity between concepts in a book and physical application frustrates me.

But today, we are in my element.  We are taking our final two tests.  I read through the materials and took notes the day before.  I think we will be done around noon given that it’s only 10AM.

As it turns out, I finish up my second test shortly after noon.  Pat, on the other hand, has not finished the reading material for the first test yet.  Mind you that Pat is someone who fully understand mechanics and physics in a way I never will.  However, his in depth understanding of how things work doesn’t seem to help him speed through test taking.

At 2PM we run out and grab a bite to eat at the closest place around. It’s a combination gas station, convenience store, hamburger joint–an honest to goodness family owned place.  After filling our stomachs, we return to the office and Pat takes his first test.  I, thankfully, have my iPad for amusement.

I’ve gotten through an episode and a half of Glee by the time Pat takes his completed test up to the desk.  After a while, I hear him talking.  He has met Matt Tabor, the owner of Lookout Mountain, and they are gabbing.  I finish the second half of the episode I’m watching and decide I need to intervene.

It’s an interesting conversation and I get sucked in.  I eventually remember that my goal was to get Pat on task and I remind him I am waiting on him to finish his second test.

At 6PM, we have to leave because they are closing for the night.  Pat has 15 questions to go on the test, but he calls it a night and we head on home.  Since completing the test now requires backtracking, I am more irritated than he is.  I remind myself that this is fun.

One Man’s Trash

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We are up before the crack of dawn, on our way to the hang gliding training hills.  We arrive early–the gates are still locked.  As soon as we settle in to wait, two dogs come running down to greet us.  They are collarless, thin, very young, and very adorable.  There aren’t any homes near enough to explain why these dogs would be hanging out here before dawn.

When the instructor arrives, we drive on, deciding to worry about the dogs on the way home, but the dogs chase us down the dirt road for as long as they can keep up.  We lose them when they tire, but they arrive at the parking lot about the time we get out my glider.  They jump all over me, wanting to be petted some more.  I turn my back on them when they jump and pet them when they have all four paws on the ground.  It takes three times and they figure out they can get what they want by standing still.  They are smart dogs.

As I go through my flying lessons, the dogs chase me when I fly off the hill and run up and start licking my face if I land on my belly.  I’m not sure if they’re worried about me or just having fun, but it’s cute.

After a few flights, they run off to explore something else.  I am relieved–these dogs are breaking my heart.  But, I don’t want to jump into a 12-14 year commitment because they’re cute and hungry.

When we call it quits for the day, the dogs reappear to “help” disassemble my glider.  They remember not to jump on me and I am impressed with how quickly they have learned that lesson.  When I am done, I sit on the ground and let them share my lap.  They are so sweet.  I remind myself they’ve been running around and are exhausted.  Tired dogs usually are sweet.

But my husband looks at me sitting on the ground with these hungry, adorable dogs and says, “All right, get them in the van.”  They ride comfortably with us to Wendy’s where they wolf down burgers.

We discuss the choices we’ve made since the death of our sweet Mastiffs to make it easy for us to travel.  We decide to take the dogs to a shelter and volunteer to foster them.

The shelter is large and clean and the man at the desk is reassuring.  I meet the volunteer coordinator and she is equally friendly.  I fill out paperwork and we bring in the dogs.  It will take 5-7 days for the dogs to get vet care (including spaying and neutering), have their behavior assessed, and be ready for foster care. I am sad as we walk out.  I cannot shake a feeling of unease, like I have shirked a responsibility.  I imagine their disappointment at being left behind.  I feel my own disappointment.  I resist the urge to run back inside and ask for them back.

Graduation Day

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Today, I went to the hang gliding training hills.  It was one of those days that combined ridiculous mistakes with unexpected successes.  Although I had my share of spills and chills today (see video), in the end, I passed the required test of successfully executing 4 Hang I flights in a row.  This means I move to the big hill.  Not the mountain yet (thank goodness!) but from the bunny hill to the big hill.  It’s a momentous occasion.  As my instructor said, I’ve worked hard for this moment.

I pause and think about this for a moment.  I don’t believe I’ve ever worked so hard for so long on achieving a novice skill level in my life.  This is a point of pride–to have stuck it out for so long just because it was fun.  I let go of my expectations, goals, and frustrations and just had fun.  Had I done anything else, I would have quit after the 3rd day out on the training hills.

As it is, I’ve flown down that baby hill so many times, I’ve gotten attached to it.  I can tell stories about the community on that hill.  The women who inspired me to keep trying–especially one who told me she’d been coming out for over a year and was still learning to land on her feet (she’s been coming out infrequently).  The student who was 60 years old and learning to hang glide for the first time. The dogs who have accompanied me through my journey from ground school.  The instructors who insisted it was OK to be on the slow plan.  Even the view from the hill of the mountain ridge, the big hill, the trains, the deer that would occasionally wander by.

All of it together kept me coming back.  And now, I find myself attached to that small hill.  As I ride the Kubota over to the big hill, I find myself actually tearing up a little.  This catches me by surprise.  I’m confused as to whether I am sad or overjoyed.  Having never given much thought to this day, not really believing it would ever happen, I find myself unprepared for the sudden emotion.

I perch on the edge of the big hill looking down and am amazed at how much bigger it really is.  I look across the training grounds and realize that while I have been enjoying the journey instead of focusing on the destination, I managed to arrive at the destination full of wonder and excitement.  This is a new lesson for me after a lifetime of holding so tightly to goals that I squeeze the life out of them.

The wind doesn’t cooperate today.  There is only one direction to fly off the big hill and we decide today is not the day for my first flight.  As I head back down, I am neither disappointed nor relieved.  After all, it’s taken me 5 months to get here, I’m in no hurry.

Muddy Paws

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Bogart, one of our English Mastiff Canine Kids in 2008

I have the great pleasure of walking dogs today.  Taking a walk with a person versus taking a walk with two dogs are two different experiences.  Walking with a person means compromising on pace and distance based on someone else’s mood.  Walking with dogs means I get to set the pace and distance, but only if I’m willing to enforce a no-pulling rule.  Although I accommodate sudden stops of the dogs’ choosing whether for potty breaks or sniffing.  Since I don’t want the dogs to pull me, I figure I shouldn’t pull them.

Fortunately, these dogs are trained to walk with a gentle leader.  This makes things considerably easier.  If they start to pull, I stop until the leash goes slack.  That’s my goal–to get them to walk so the leash has a little slack.  After a few times, they seem to understand and we walk at the pace I choose.  At least until they stop.

One dog seems to like to sniff a lot.  I eventually realize that she is actually trying to rub off her gentle leader.  I decide to distract her by going for a short, slow jog.  This works well until the other dog suddenly needs to poop.

Apparently there is some kind of trigger that once one dog poops, the other dog will have to poop exactly 10 steps after I have tied a knot in the poop bag, forcing me to use a second bag.  That is another difference between walking with humans and dogs–on a good day, the former doesn’t require picking up poop in a plastic baggie.

We wind our way around a paved trail that goes through the woods.  They try to walk on fallen leaves or grass whenever possible.  Interestingly, neither dog wants to walk in mud or puddles.  They go around puddles without any encouragement from me.

I smile at this.  We used to have two English Mastiffs who never really noticed what they were walking through.  They would leave giant paw prints that would have strangers stopping and wondering if a bear or lion was loose in the neighborhood if they had never seen our dogs (and sometimes when they were looking at our dogs).

Then, when we got home, we would have a pile of “dog towels” by the door that we would use to wipe the mud off of their feet.  They were pretty good about standing and letting us wipe their paws, but it was hard to keep the one who went second from walking all over the place with their big muddy paws while they waited. There are a lot of days when I miss having to wipe muddy paws.

Today, I will have no muddy paws to wipe–these dogs are more dainty than I am when it comes to staying out of the mud.  But as we jog along briefly, the accompanying jingle of dog tags makes me feel like it’s going to be a good day.

Landing on My Feet

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We have returned to the hang gliding hills.  The instructor, Dan, tells me to run like I’m on Baywatch.  I try to channel David Hasselhoff as I take my next run down the hill, although I’m certain Dan had someone blonde and female in mind.

The rest of the morning, my flights seem to get better and better.  Dan asks me if I want to start trying to land on my feet.  I have seen many people land on their feet.  They swoop in low and then allow the nose to reach trim, move their hands up on the bars, and then push up, tipping the nose back so that the glider is like a super-hero cape behind them.  Then, they lower gently to the earth and land on their feet, just like any modern-day super hero should.

My first attempt, I get close, but when I try to flare, my arms go out fully extended and the glider is just barely tipped back.  I get enough lift to almost put my feet down, but then I crash to the ground with a thud.

I go through several more attempts, making mistakes each time.  My closest attempt culminates with me falling flat on my face.  I didn’t think it was possible to actually hit your face on the ground while strapped into a hang glider, but I manage it.  Pat pulls up on the Kubota and says, “Are you OK?  You landed flat on your face!”  I assure him I am aware I landed on my face.

After a final roll-in landing, I decide it’s time to call it quits for the day if I want to make sure I can get up tomorrow.

As I change into my dry clothes, I count the bruises.  I have a scraped ankle, bruises on both knees and both hips.  My shoulders are bruised, my arm is bruised, and my wrists and forearms ache.  For a moment I wonder why I continue beating myself up.  I smile to myself as I remember the feeling of having a really good flight.  The feeling of being lifted up into the air and then riding the ground effect for that brief moment before the wheels touch down.

I look at my bruises a second time and smile knowing I earned them because I took a major step forward today.  I think, “This is fun.  I’ll stop when it’s not fun anymore.”

I’ve always believed the saying, “it’s about the journey, not the destination,” but I’ve never really done anything that way.  Learning to hang glide is the first time I’ve taken on learning something with no goal in mind. I don’t know if I will ever do a mountain launch.  All I know is I really like the way it feels to glide off the training hill.  I’m having a ball right where I am and I’m having a ball learning one small skill at a time.  Why would I give that up?

Pain in the Neck

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The alarm goes off at 5:30AM even though it’s Sunday morning–I have to remind myself we’re going hang gliding.  I get out of bed feeling stiff and sore.  My right shoulder and the right side of my neck are especially sore.  I move my head gently trying to loosen things up.  Then, I get the coffee brewing and start on my morning routine.

When I lean over the sink to wash my face, the entire right side of my neck goes into muscle spasms.  I can barely hold my head up long enough to rinse the soap off my face.  My shoulder is likewise screaming–stabbing pain shoots down my right arm.  I reach up with my hands and hold the weight of my head in them.  Carrying my head, I walk into the living room and, as carefully as possible, lay down on the floor.  With the weight of my head supported, the pain lessens.  Instead of feeling like someone is stabbing me in the neck with a slightly dull knife, I feel like the stabbing has stopped and now I’m just in pain.  I lay there and think, “Oh. I am not going hang gliding today.”  Apparently I paddled my kayak unevenly yesterday.

I manage to get up off the floor after about 10 minutes, get a cup of coffee and move to my office chair where I can prop my head on the headrest.  This feels good, although I’m still very ouchy–I try not to move my head in any direction that offsets the weight of my head from directly over my neck.  I drink my coffee with my left hand so as to prevent using my right shoulder by accident.

Turns out my eye-hand coordination is even worse with my left hand and I dump hot coffee down my chin, onto my shirt and into my lap.  I’m in too much pain to worry about it.  Since I’m wearing dark fleece, I figure the stains won’t show much.  I wipe my chin off with the back of my hand and keep sipping coffee.

Pat gets up and I explain to him what’s going on.  I decide I will get ready to go just in case by some miracle my neck rights itself by the time we get there.  If it doesn’t, I will drive the Kubota and tow hang gliders.  If it does, I will fly.

The hardest part is putting on shirts over my head.  But, I need multiple layers to stay warm driving the Kubota, so I suffer through.  I pull on my down jacket before pulling on my rain jacket.  My rain jacket is still stained from the mud I drug myself through last Sunday.  I make a mental note to wash it when we get back.

The drive to the training hills is so uncomfortable I worry that I won’t even be able to drive the Kubota.  But, given that there won’t be any traffic passing me, I won’t have to worry about looking over my shoulder before changing lanes, so I think I might be OK.

It’s still in the 20’s when we get there.  The sun is rising, but the almost full moon hasn’t set yet.  I attempt to take a picture of the moon hanging just above the horizon over the small hill.  I have only my iPhone and I use a camera app with zoom.  Unfortunately, I guess I don’t know how to save the picture from this app because it disappears on me.

I help Pat assemble his glider by reading the directions to him so he doesn’t have to put his reading glasses on.  I don’t even attempt to bend over to do any actual assembling.  So far, as long as I turn my whole body when  I want to look at something, I’m doing OK.

When the first pilot is ready, which turns out to be Pat, I pull up the Kubota and let him load his glider.  When we get to the top of the hill, I hold the nose while he gets down and picks the glider up instead of taking the glider off the trailer myself.  I won’t be carrying any gliders today; that much is for sure.

I make several more runs back and forth picking up 5 more gliders and students.  By the time I’m done, there are already 3 students at the bottom of the hill waiting for a ride back up to the top.  One has given up and is walking his glider up.  I circle around and start picking up students and gliders and driving them back up top.  With 6 flying and a 7th on his way, I can’t seem to keep up.

By the time the 7th student looks ready, I need to use the facilities.  I hand the Kubota over to Pat to drive while I walk down to check on the last student and use the outhouse.  With everyone off on the hills, I opt for the woods over the outhouse–much more pleasant.  Then, I get on the four wheeler to tow the last student out to the hill.

I’ve never driven a four wheeler before.  The angle is bad for my neck, but not so bad that I’m not going to drive it.  The shifter is like a motorcycle–down at my left foot.  The other student keeps telling me to raise it up to put it in gear.  I keep telling him I can’t find the clutch, but he can’t hear me.  What should be the clutch doesn’t squeeze like one.  I finally turn around so he can hear me and he informs me that there is no clutch.  I’m a little confused as to why it has a shifter like that with no clutch, but sure enough it works.  The accelerator, however, is like a waverunner–a tiny little lever that you push with your thumb.  When I push it, I have trouble accelerating gently and I jerk the trailer hard.  I’m sure that student number 7 is wishing he had just driven himself up by now.

As the wind starts to pick up, there is a pause in the flights.  I actually get ahead on picking up students.  I make it to the bottom of the hill and sit well out of range so I can watch Pat’s next flight.  Pat is now learning to land on his feet.  I’ve only gotten to see one of his flights so far today, I’ve been so busy driving.  I watch him soar off the hill, speed up, slow down, and then flare.  He still has too much airspeed when he flares and he balloons up a bit too much, then drops the nose (which you’re never supposed to do) and, remembering, quickly brings it up again.  In the end, he lands on his knees instead of his feet, but not hard enough that he gets hurt.

When I pick him up, he’s disappointed that I saw his crappy landing instead of one of his good ones.  I’m disappointed that I couldn’t get my iPhone out in time to get a video. He’s happy I didn’t.

At the end of the morning, I’m actually tired from driving the Kubota.  But, what I notice is that my neck and shoulder feel considerably better.  Instead of laying around feeling sorry for myself, the activity not only kept me distracted from the pain, but it seems to have loosened up some of the tight muscles.  I still can’t turn my head far enough that it would be safe for me to drive on the highway, but I’m glad that I came out.

If the Boats a Rockin’

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It’s Saturday.  Marcy’s Playground comes to mind every time I say that.  With “It’s Saturday” running as the soundtrack in my head, I start gathering up the stuff I will take with me on our kayaking trip today.  We have signed up for an Outdoor Chattanooga outing kayaking at the Hiwassee Wildlife Refuge.  The Sandhill Crane is migrating through the area and it’s an opportunity to see (hopefully) thousands of them up close.

I, of course, want to shoot.  I’ve never tried to shoot from a kayak before–it will be interesting.  But, I have gone to great pains to make sure I can keep my camera dry when not shooting.  I purchased a Pelican waterproof box and carefully sculpted the foam in the box to hold my camera safely.  I’m not quite clear on where I will put this special box so that I can get the camera in and out without rolling the boat, but we’ll worry about that when we get there.

Pat is convinced that we will be going into the river today.  In spite of the fact that we will be in a sea kayak (much more stable than river kayaks) and that we will be in a tandem (even more stable), Pat is sure we are going to roll.  He bases this assuredness on past experience.  We were once on a tandem sea kayak in the Caribbean sitting perfectly still and I (at least, he thinks it was me) managed to flip up.  I contend that it was him, or the ocean, or the wind.  But I have to admit that my track record is at least pretty good circumstantial evidence against me.

However, it’s December and it’s not exactly a warm day with a high expected in the mid-40’s.  I’m pretty determined that we are not going in the river.  I find myself somewhat superstitious about this, however.  I take the approach of fully preparing for a dip in cold water as a measure of ensuring that it doesn’t happen.  It’s the theory of, “If you don’t want it to rain, carry an umbrella and put off washing your car.”

As I dress for our adventure, I choose carefully.  Under Armour tights, hiking pants, rain pants, Under Armour top, wool pullover, fleece, rain jacket.  Each under layer dries quickly and retains heat even when wet.  The waterproof top layer will protect me from splashes and help retain heat as well.  I hate being cold.  I also pick out a goofy hat.  The wind is pretty strong out there and it will only be worse on the water.  I want to be comfortable more than I want to look good.

Satisfied that my camera is well-protected and my clothes will keep me warm even if we fall in, we load up and head on out.  We have a bag with a change of dry clothes so we won’t have to ride home wet in the worst case.  We also have both of our day packs with a bladder of water each and big lunches, two pairs of binoculars, and my waterproof box.  For people who have been downsizing for years, we manage to look like pack mules every time we go somewhere.

We arrive at the park where we’re meeting for the tour.  One of the guides has a Newfoundland dog.  When we walk up, the dog leans against me, laying the weight of his head against my belly.  I rub his big old head and think for the millionth time how much I miss our dogs.

When everyone is ready to go, we load all of our crap and ourselves into the van and head on down the road.  By the time we get to the refuge, I think my body temperature is over 100 and I’m stripping off layers.  As soon as we get out of the van, I am quickly putting them back on.

Everyone gets settled in their boats, adjusting foot pedals and positioning their stuff.  One of the guides, Terry, helps Pat lash my waterproof box to the top of the kayak in front of me so I can easily get my camera in and out.  This is a good thing–I couldn’t figure out how I was going to get the thing in and out of the tiny space for my legs.

Before we get started, Pat has troubles with the rudder and while a guide is helping him sort it out, I spot a juvenile Bald Eagle soaring overhead.

We paddle our way across the main channel and then head along the shore of the refuge, trying not to get close enough to scare the birds.  A large white bird is standing on the shore ahead of us.  It turns out it’s a White Pelican, not a typical bird for the area.  We were hoping for Whooping Cranes, which migrate through Hiwassee every winter, but no such luck.  The pelican decides to take off as we approach, but manages to fly at an angle so that he has his back to us the entire time.  I’m frustrated by my shots.

As I shoot the White Pelican, I see a cluster of Sandhill Cranes standing on the shore behind the flight of the pelican.  There are only a dozen or so gathered there, but we can hear what must be hundreds of Sandhill Cranes gabbing away at one another.  They are an impossibly loud bird whose voice can carry a mile or more.

Across the channel we spot a group of smaller white birds floating on the water.  Someone says they are ring-billed gulls, but I don’t get a close enough look to decide if I agree.  I’m busy looking at the grassy bank above them.  Pat asks me if the bank is covered in Sandhill Cranes.  Unfortunately, the kayak won’t hold still and we bob up and down as I try to look through my binoculars.  For a moment I am convinced they are cows, then I realize I’ve misjudged the distance (and therefore the size).  They are Sandhill Cranes after all.  I blush at having thought they were cows.

We continue on our way, seeing many Great Blue Heron, Double-Crested Cormorants, Coots, possibly Lesser Scaups, and Bald Eagles.  I’m not as familiar with water birds, so I don’t even attempt to identify the gulls that fly by.

We make our way around the island, paddling ferociously against the current until we get around the tip of the island and start floating back with the current.  As we complete the trip, three more bald eagles appear and a group of cranes fly by.  It’s hard to believe we’ve been out on the water for nearly 3 hours.  Even more unbelievable, we never fell in!

When I click through my photos, I have to laugh out loud.  If I scroll through fast enough that the shots are movie-like, I feel like I’m back in the boat again.  The rocking of the boat is capture in the movement of my subject in the frame from one shot to the next.  I can’t tell on the small LCD if anything is in focus or not, but I hope my fast shutter made up for all the motion in the boat.