you must click on the pictures to enlarge them
The blog site has changed many processes for posting pictures. I only recently found out about this. I'm not certain what the first completed blog entry will look like on this new site. I guess we'll both be made better aware at the end of the entry. If the wheel isn't broken; don't fix it. It wasn't broken.
I did place a link on the old blog site that leads to this one. Thanks for your patience and understanding
This new blog is a continuation of the original. The blog site has made changes to procedure and I found it necessary to start this new blog site. I have imported the entire original blog to this one. The format is a bit different. I have to learn how this works all over again.
I did place a link on the old blog site that leads to this one. Thanks for your patience and understanding
All the other gear was thoughtfully placed into the boat. I lay a tarp over the OZ tent so Douglas wouldn't soil it with his muddy feet. The boat was in the water as I loaded it. I stepped in and extended the left stabilizer and pushed away from the shore with the paddle. I then knelt forward and extended the right stabilizer and paddled to shore until the bow barely touched the embankment. Douglas made sever feints at getting in due to the small space he would be confined in. He wasn't sure where he was to go. Finally he hopped off the bank and into the bow and laid down on the uneaven surface below him. We were off.
He is used to an engine and his level of excitement increases and wains with the variation of engine RPM's. A canoe paddle is dead silent and he was rocked to sleep to the music of water gently lapping against the side of the boat.
It was an uneventful trip to my favorite camp spot on the hill located half way down the lake. The trip took about an hour of steady paddling. The boat bumped the embankment nose on and Douglas hopped onto dry land. I then put the canoe along side the shoreline and tied it off front and back.
I will never again camp where I have to carry the contents of a canoe and then the canoe itself up hill. There are other camp sites that sit lower on hill sides and I shall use them from now on.
I have the set up procedure captured in photos below and above. Once opened up, as shown above, the left side of the tent bundle is pulled out to the left as shown below:
Then the right side of the tent is simply pulled out (pivoted) out to the right.
One can see the opening that one walks through in the center of the two sides. All that is needed is to grab a handle located inside the tent at the peak where you see the two sides come together forming the top of the "A" and pull the tent up around you. Simple. And it only takes 30 seconds.
There it is. Very simple. There also is a canopy that can be pulled out if needed. A small fire can be had under it or one can simply sit and enjoy the scenery out of the sun and rain.
The poles used to hold the canopy up are the only free standing poles supplied. The tent itself is built around its own framework. I went back later and straightened up the sagging canopy.
The hardware supplied is of the highest quality I have ever seen supplied with a tent. The thought put into the design of the hardware and the tent itself is to manufacture a tent that is totally reliable and dependable with longevity built in.
A simple rope tensioner is designed to work fast and be strong. Look at it's simplicity. Uncomplicated and totally reliable.
The canopy poles are designed to extend and lock with a simple twist. Their height can be adjusted to suit uneven ground thereby keeping the canopy level or, if desired, it can be set with a slight pitch to better shed water.
There is a window in both the left and the right side of the front flaps. See above.
The flaps are held down with velcro. Simply pull them open and roll up the covering.
The hinges that allow the tent frame to expand into its form are strong and durable. This thing's made for the long term.
The braces located at the corners of the tent are formed perfectly. They are round so as not to injure the tent fabric.
Actually without Douglas I would have rested the front of the tent on the front seat and pushed the other end as far as it would go under the center seat. Everything would have worked out fine. The model tent I have is the RV2. There is an RV1 that may have been more appropriate for a sixteen foot boat.
- USA - Family Tent Camping
He swims in the lake and then blasts around in the woods at top speed.
Go dance in the water my golden son
then roll in leaves and have your fun
Bath in the purity of this place
Bath in the purity of this place
breathe deep its beauty and it's grace
I just saw him jump back away from a ravine and then cautiously re-approach it again. He just now jumped backward again. My worse nightmare! If he uncovered a copperhead snake and would be bitten; he would die for sure. There is no way I could get him to help. I yelled at him "NO, NO". I calmly said "sit boy; sit." And he did. I ran as fast as I could to him. There about five feet in front of him was a black rat snake. I was releaved. The snake remained fixated on Douglas. No damage could be done here to either Douglas or the snake. My boy would approach with curiosity; not intent to harm. I went back for the camera. What follows is an interesting series of photos.
He is poised; ready to strike
The Strike. Douglas and I both jumped at the lightning quickness of the snakes strike. Yep; I jerked the camera and got a blurred picture. I'll do better when I run across a rattle snake or copperhead. Promise.
I really needed everything you see in the photo. Essential! Well, it is essential.
Come sit beside me golden boy,
you know you are my pride and joy.
I lay my hand upon your head,
you look at me theres nothing said.
The look of trust is sheltered there,
You know that I'm the one who cares,
I'm here for you thru thick and thin,
Clear down the line until the end. And forever more
Junk! Great Scott; Junk!
It is almost 5PM and the soft light of late afternoon has passed. A chill is in the air and the breeze has picked up a bit. Tonight should prove to be a sweet time. Douglas takes a dip in the lake before dark while I gather fire wood.
I'll tell you; I got my OZ tent over here, and my canoe is over there, the kitchen is down there and I'm, under my awning right here. What a deal! I have everything I need right here on this little spot of earth. I think I'm ready to be totally ascimilated into the wilderness; into nature itself. I think I shall become invisable. OK; enough is enough. We'll continue in the morning. "Douglas! Come inside." I'm not used to all this space in here. It's like Vahalla.
Thee wind has really increased velocity. I can hear the water splashing against the shoreline and the wind blowing through the trees. Weather predictions; useless. No accountability to it. We'll see what the morrow brings. "Douglas; get back in here. Good boy."
Morning arrives and we take a stroll around the camp one more time. The weather looks less than desirable, but the lake looks like it shouldn't be too much of a problem to navigate unless the wind picks up.
You may be wondering what the "challenging" part of this blog entry is all about. It follows shortly.. The morning brought with it an overcast sky and high wind. The water was near white cap proportions and occasionally white caps would appear only to be flattened by wind shear; the blowing of the wind across the water in high velocity gusts. The wind appeared more of a gusting wind and not the steady onslaught that drives paddlers crazy. Paddling against a steady high velocity wind is an effort in futility. Those winds can prove dangerous and best be avoided. I started to take the camp apart. The tent was dismantled, kitchen things placed into their pack and all the assorted items rounded up and put away where I'm sure I will never find them again. I picked the canoe up and walked down to the lake with it, my lower back complaining all the way. It was set upon the water gently and the bow and stern lines were tied off so the boat would stay in position while I carefully loaded the cargo back onboard. I checked the camp area to assure I left nothing of my presence, unlike those who came before me. "Oh boy Douglas. This is going to be an interesting morning." If the wind would continue acting as it was now; I could keep close to the right shoreline and remain in less turbulent water. Things seemed calm there. I loosened the lines and stepped into the boat. A nearby tree offered a handle for my hand to hold everything in place until Douglas could bring it upon himself to voluntarily squeeze back into his place on the point of the canoe. He is such a good boy. He stepped in and settled down low, laying on the front of the OZ tent bundle. I pushed away from the tree and the bank and we were off.
We moved slowly down along the shoreline where the water was smooth. The canoe was quite manageable under the current wind conditions. Fifteen minutes into the run and quite a way upstream a furious gust of wind arose and hammered into the front of the canoe. It instantly drove us toward the shoreline. I extended the paddle as far out into the water as I could reach on the right side and frantically paddled in an effort to turn the canoe left and into the face of the wind. The gust subsided and the canoe became manageable once more. Wind gusts were arriving more frequently now and they were of varying strengths. As the water channel bent around to the left we became totally vulnerable to the winds punishment.
The canoe now was on a long open stretch of water resembling a bay with no barrier to slow the winds velocity. When the wind would diminish; I was paddling with a fast cadence, often switching from left side to right side with the paddle. Fancy and cute paddle strokes would not work in this mess. It was lean forward, plant the paddle in the water and pull hard in conjunction with paddle pries off the gun wale’s to keep the boat travelling in an acceptable direction. We were making good time when I saw what I didn’t want to see. Far out in front of us the dark water had a light gray color on the surface and the gray was moving rapidly toward us. Wind shear! I have never experienced this phenomenon before while in a canoe. The wind was blowing so hard over the water that it tended to smooth the peaks and valleys of the washboard surface to a smooth texture. In short; the waves of surface water were blown smooth. The gray shade of water extended from shore to shore and if we stayed where we were, the force of it would surely push us against the rocks of the embankment. I turned the boat sharply left and out into the main lake as far as I could and turned the nose directly into the oncoming wind shear. I only hoped it would not last very long. It would be impossible to hold it on course or hold it stationary for long. I’ll never forget the vision in front of us just before the shear hit the boat. The water all around us was displaying choppy waves and of a normal color and texture. What was approaching was a variation in color from gray to white and it resembled an enormous dirty bed sheet being pulled rapidly toward us. That was the analogy of the moment. As it came closer the roar of it could be heard. Actually the wind blowing through the trees on both sides added to the sound because the shear was not a thin layer of blown wind at water level but, the entire canyon, bottom to top, was filled with the huge gust. The trees were bending as far as I could see up the cliffs on both sides. One second they were strait and the next they were bent precariously in the direction the massive wind gust was blowing. The noise of the coming wind was ominous. I was as ready as I could be. I sat leaned forward a bit with the paddle extended and laying on the pack in front of me, the blade pointing toward the bow. And then it hit the boat. We were instantly thrust rearward. The boat remained pointed strait into the wind for approximately ten seconds. Then in an instant the force pushed the front of the canoe on the right side and the frail craft instantly spun around sideways and was thrust down the lake. The paddle was put into the water on the down side and a series of very powerful pries were performed to turn the boat back up stream. (Pries are using the gun wale as a fulcrum for the paddle shaft to be pulled against in order to thrust the blade of the paddle against the water to achieve a more instant direction change.) Every pry I accomplished would attempt to turn the boat but the wind would eradicate any corrective action I took. I increased the pry stroke cadence and added five sweep strokes at the end of the pries. It was no use fighting this. I did not have the power in my arms to succeed. At the moment of my concession to the invisible force; it stopped. The shear was replaced by rapid short gusts of wind. I pried the boat back around and put it on course. We were blown at least a hundred yards down the lake. The canoe nosed around and I paddled for all I was worth to make up lost distance before another blow came through. The paddle was planted and the boat pulled to it; four pulls on the left side and four on the right side with pries in-between. My arms were not tired but my lower back was starting to remember an accident I had when eighteen years old. We were making good time. We headed back to the shore line and traveled the edge of it. Slick Rock Creek cove was just around the next corner. As we approached that corner; the wind once again arose. I was paddling but going nowhere. We were holding a stationary pattern. We were running in place. It is so hard to make up lost ground; in this case water. I would keep paddling until I could not anymore. I felt good. The pressure of the wind force varied from forceful to gentle. I took advantage of the gentle moments paddling with every muscle I had. I would gain fifteen feet and the forceful wind would stop us dead and the paddling continued to hold position. As the wind would slow; the canoe would slowly move ahead. It was amazing to watch this folly. Then, in an instant, we were swept to the left and toward the center of the lake. The current was moving us. We were directly in front of the Slick Rock Creek cove and the currents were moving strangely. It was as if they were moving out of the cove toward us carrying the boat along with them. Pries were applied with sweep strokes to pull the front of the boat back on course.
Then the wind struck yet again and we paddled in place once more but were pushed backward. The front of the canoe would go left and I would correct it. Then, it would be blown to the right and another correction would be needed. All the while there is no force from the paddle to gain forward movement. All the energy is expended to keep the boat under control. Should I just paddle into Slick Rock Creek cove and sit this out? We have enough food for another day. The shelter was on board and the best to be had. But, what if tomorrow were the same or worse? We would continue on. Just another half to three quarter’s of a mile and we’re home. Once past the cove of Slick Rock; the right side embankment acted as a blocker to the wind. The water was quiet thirty feet out from the bank. Any further out and it was the usual turbulence. Douglas finally stood up in the bow and the boat wobbled as he stretched his legs. “Sit boy! Sit! Please, sit boy”. That’s all I needed; Douglas to fall overboard and me making the attempt to get him back in the boat with this mess going on. We were coming up on the last bend before we were home free when I could see the gray color on the water again. No, not another one! I paddled over to the shore and grabbed a tree limb that was hanging over the water. The shear blasted past us. We were protected by the curvature of the embankment that formed the bend in the lake. I thought to myself, “You won’t get me this time.” The gray water whisked on past and I paddled with everything I had across the lake on an angle that would put us at the tiny boat dock at Calderwood Camp Ground. The wind played evil tricks on us as we pushed across that last piece of water. I was getting tired. I am paddling using strong strokes and it seems the boat is not making way as it should. Then it hit me. A release from Cheoah Dam is occurring and we are actually going against that current. Actually the current was pushing against the right side of the boat because we were pointed across stream and down toward it. I could only paddle on the left side of the canoe. And the closer to the dam we got; the harder I paddled. I couldn’t believe this. I couldn’t go up against that current combined with the wind. The current pushed against the side of the boat and turned us. I could not correct the course. All this way; the entire struggle; only to end up being washed against the bank. Luck prevailed, however. The canoe was washed into a quiet spot near the bank. My sweeping paddle strokes and pries became effective and I moved the canoe slowly up the side of the bank to a grass covered area and touched the nose on ground. “Douglas, Out!” I finally stepped into the very shallow water and pulled the boat to the edge of the grass and tied it off. I sat on a log and looked down the lake from where we had just come. A long way. A very long paddle indeed.
Did we bring all that stuff?
This looks better
“Come on boy. Let’s load all this stuff in the truck.”
I did manage to photograph a sinister looking camp that wasn't there the day before. There are some strange people out in the hills.
Thats it for this blog entry. Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did living through it.
Incidently; this blog may have a slightly different address as I had to import all the data from the old blog into a new one. I believe the original blog is still there but all the data has been copied to this new blog. Thanks for your interest and I hope you keep watching my activities. Until next time; be kind to a dog.
Incredible camping adventure! You and Douglas work as one in spirit in all
ReplyDeleteyou did together. You grieving for him can be felt to the very depth of my
heart and soul.
Anne