Seal of Approval

April-May 2000

This is an article from WaveLength Magazine, available in print in North America and globally on the web.

by Will Thomas

Longtime sailor Will Thomas completed construction of his 31-foot Kismet trimaran Celerity on Gabriola Island in 1976. Two years later he departed with his mate Thea on a voyage that eventually circled this blue planet's biggest ocean. During their eight-year Pacific circumnavigation, the seafarers called at islands throughout the fabled South Seas, before sailing through encounters with typhoons and pirates to newly formed Vanuatu, New Guinea, the Solomons, Micronesia, the Philippines and Hong Kong. After two years cruising the islands of Japan, Celerity completed the first nonstop North Pacific crossing by multihull, reaching Vancouver Island 48 days after departing Honshu. Now back in the bay of her birth, Celerity and her captain continue to make local explorations-this time in company with a new member of the family, a kayak named Chimera.

Chimera meets Celerity

'Pay attention,'

I keep reminding my self. Though I've been sailing around Gabriola Island for decades, I now have a radically new waterborne perspective, dodging tufts of seagull feathers while gliding close under cliffs on a sliver of sunburnished wood. If I'm not careful, the hypnotic rise and dip of the paddle, and the prismatic refraction of water droplets glistening on a mahogany prow could conspire to immerse me in more than this moment.

For I am a fledgling kayaker. And the water is very cold.

A worried friend calls kayaking "dangerous fun". But after several hours' anxious aquatics in a tippy round-bottom craft that made my first foray as fraught with hazard as a log-rolling contest, my body is at last sensing security.

All I knew was that I had submitted my intention for a wooden kayak... and the universe had responded with a beguiling boat at a price I could not afford to not afford.

It must've cost kayaking guide Richard Towers several heart attacks mentoring me through the surf that first day. His 'full immersion' lesson-and my 23 years rowing a small dinghy in all weathers-helped keep me upright on Ma Ocean's heaving bosom.

And I acquired another ally that afternoon.

How else to describe a curious seal stopping to ogle this neophyte's initial launch off Gabriola's rocky eastern shore? Minutes later, as the next incoming breaker buried the foredeck to surge around my chest, I was shocked to discover that the boat I was wearing was part seal herself. Rolling with delight, the kayak surfaced, shaking off saltwater with an exuberant eagerness to head out to sea.

So we did.

I learned a lot that afternoon. But only after paying cash for this challenging craft would I read that relatively rare round-bottom sea kayaks excel in rough water. Acting as if on gimbals, these initially rolly boats tend to stay horizontal with the horizon. With her narrow bottom and widely-flared gunwales, the saucer-shaped craft I came to call Chimera also picks up stability quickly as she tips. Which is, as Pooh might put it, A Very Good Thing.

In contrast, while reassuringly stable in flat water, flatter-bottomed kayaks try to profile each wave-abruptly relinquishing stability once canted steeply to a beam sea.

The manager at the lumberyard where I went to buy a tarp spotted my new purchase perched atop my old Toyota like an elaborate wooden instrument. Which in a way she was.

"Is that a Yare?" he asked.

"A who?"

When I followed his suggestion to check out the Chesapeake Light Craft website, it appeared that my island-built boat possessed a prestigious pedigree. At least, the photos I found there looked just like my kayak. As CLC explained: "Yare is an old term used to describe a quick and easily handled boat."

I nodded happily, only to feel my heart skip a few dozen beats when I read that "With its extreme flared hull, narrow waterline, and super-low wetted surface...this is a boat for the expert paddler."

Oops.

Still, I kept thinking of that seal and the affinity between my kayak and a sea critter whose totemic significance signifies a 'seal' of approval. After five decades without a kayak, buying this boat felt right. And after bouncing off barnacle-crusted rocks without a scratch, I was delighted to discover that I was possessed by a rugged, lightweight, straight-tracking fibreglass-skinned seacraft whose natural wood elicited admiration from all audiences. Not just humans.

Confirmation came off Burial Island during my fourth paddle. Deciding to extend my practice session after a downhill toboggan ride, I used a sweeping stroke to turn the rudderless 16-footer back upwind along the turbulent edge of Gabriola Passage.

This was work! Remembering to alternately twist my torso, I quickly found that using my shoulders to draw each stroke aft gave me a good turn of speed without excessive exertion. The kayaking books were right.

But the roar of a wake approaching close astern was completely unexpected. Holy smokes! An eight-year Pacific circumnavigation aboard a trimaran birthed in this same bay had taught me to maintain a constant scan. And I had seen no powerboats at all.

Whipping my head around, I was startled to see a seal splashing toward my transom with singular intent. Whatever the attraction to this chimerical boat-man, it looked like he wanted to play.

Or mate!

Some paranoid retrieval program recalled a yarn told aboard a patched-up cold-molded boat in Nuku Hiva. Still-shaken friends sailing their trimaran down the equator thousands of miles from nearest land related how they had ended up with an amorous whale in their main saloon-and a helluva lot of water in an outrigged boat whose underwater hull profiles resembled two calves swimming close alongside their mom...

Apparently sea mammals love round-bottom wooden boats as much as their owners do. Apprehensively appreciative of such enthusiastic company, I backpaddled while addressing my bewhiskered pursuer across a few feet of water.

"How's it goin?"

For just an instant we connected eye to eye. In that moment our separate species seemed to evaporate as seal and seaman shared the same stretch of water on a sunny afternoon. My startled suitor blinked and was gone.

I may be slow sometimes, but I understand guidance when it chases me down! My intuition was right. I could trust my kayak's affinity for the sea. For Chimera, it was clear, shares enough seal traits to be recognized as kin.

Will Thomas is an award-winning author and journalist who has spent time in war zones, as well as on logging and native blockades. Co-founder of the Georgia Strait Alliance, in 1990 he sailed Celerity on an environmental survey of the Strait for the newly formed organization. The resulting book "Saving the Strait, Saving Ourselves" (ISBN 0-9695485-1-6, available from GSA) was published under the name Randy Thomas. With sailing articles published in six countries, his other books include "Scorched Earth", "Bringing The War Home", "Alt. Health", and "Probing The Chemtrails Conundrum." Contact Will at: wilco@islandnet.com Chesapeake Light Craft can be reached at ph: 410-267-0137 or email: kayaks@clcinc.com. Web: www.clcboats.com