Thoughts on kayaking, science, and life
By Johna Till Johnson “Vlad, what language are they speaking?” I asked. The young couple in the sick bay next to us were murmuring softly to each other in a language I couldn’t quite grasp. Germanic, I guessed, from the … Continue reading →
It was an uneventful sail. That is, if you don’t count bright sunshine, dying winds, a fierce opposing current towards the end… and the usual odds and ends of mechanical issues and trim. One of the pedal drives needed adjustment. … Continue reading →
After four separate boat inspections (including the boat-sniffing dog) Team Trimorons crossed the mountains and arrived at Port Townsend. The next few days were busy doing last-minute packing and organizing, and a few other things… There was the question of … Continue reading →
The Two-Thirds Trimorons slept deeply and awoke early. The plan was to be on the road around 0400; there was a slight delay as they realized they’d managed to lock the keys inside the van. Oops. Fortunately one of the … Continue reading →
They call it the “Enchanted Highway”. It’s a 32-mile stretch of highway connecting with Route 94, in North Dakota, decorated with what’s billed as the largest collection of scrap-metal sculptures in the world. Despite spending 30 years crisscrossing the United … Continue reading →
Nothing much has changed here at Pomestye in a day and a half. The sky’s still cool and overcast, with drizzly-to-rainy patches. The earth smells fresh and the strawberries taste sweet. The birds chirp and the rooster crows. But in … Continue reading →
It’s 0800 Sunday morning. The faraway sound of the “Star Spangled Banner” filters through the air. Somewhere (the base across the river?) someone plays the recording every morning at 0800. It’s cool, about 60 degrees, and overcast, with drizzle. Earlier … Continue reading →
“We should do the race to Alaska.” It didn’t sound like a big deal. Particularly after we’d just completed the Everglades Challenge (my second time, Vlad’s… ninth? We think.) Still. 750 miles in the cold waters of the Pacific Northwest … Continue reading →
Sunday, April 5, 2000 HR (8 PM) It’s not too cold. I’m not wearing my wool cap, and my nose and hands are warm. I’m in the stern cabin. Through the thick plexiglass port I can see a blurry moon. … Continue reading →
We wake early. So far, so good. Christina Rose had handled fine during the 7-mile Hudson crossing to Croton Point. We’d travelled at a speed of 8-10 knots, with a gusty, 20-kt wind. It was bouncy, but manageable. Mully hadn’t … Continue reading →