July 25th - Site S5 on Sand Point Lake, Minnesota

Crossing east along the island studded southern shoreline of Namikan Lake in Northern Minnesota, the 15-20 knot tail wind is outing us along nicely.  A sloppy sea has stirred up and breaking waves crash over the stern and port side of our delicate craft as we surf down, then crash into the next wave ahead.  Even with strong effort on the rudder we are often pushed one way, then the nest as quartering waves shove the stern of the boat about.  The boat creaks ad flexes like an old seafaring craft of yore, however ours of made of a space aged sealed cordura rubberized skin stretched over ribs of lexan and a framework of aircraft grade aluminum alloys.  The boat is made to flex and we can feel the waves ass beneath the keep and the pulsing water overtakes us.  Suddenly - "SNAP" and something does not feel right. I'm thinking in an instant what just parted, thinking of the many frame joints, rivets, an sleeved connections that make up the bones of this kayak, and then as the next wave breaks over the stern it is clear - my starboard rudder control cable has given way and we are rudderless. Pressure on my right peddle does nothing, and peering back briefly I can see the rudder sashaying from side to side of its own free will.

Looking ahead  we converse with difficulty over the howl of the wind formulating a strategy. Just one hindered yards ahead is a small island to our port side angry with breaking waves halting it's apparent motion through the chop.  We make for the right side of the island, hoping to find a sheltering cove in the lee.

Now, hours later we have reached camp and I write this while perched on a 50 foot granite headland facing west over Grassy Bay and a mile of open water and in the teeth of the wind which has not subsided since our earlier fiasco.  I feel like I'm on the prow of a steamship plowing through these borderland waterways. The wind driven water parting to let my rock island pass.  But, even with all this apparent motion, the distant shore becomes no closer.  Our fears of a crowded waterway are unfounded as this place appears almost deserted.  Perhaps the strong wind is keeping people away.  We are the only party we've seen traveling by paddled locomotion.  The rest seem to be day fisherman or house boaters tucked away into quiet coves.  thoughtfully the park service has not sited any small campsites within eye or earshot of the houseboat anchorages.  

Returning to our rudderless ordeal earlier in the day, on the les side of the small island we see a spot between two boulders that looks like we could tuck our nose in and be secure enough to investigate the damage and facilitate repairs.  While Diane stands knee deep in the lapping water I pop my spray skirt and sea sock and reach in for the rudder control cable.  Sure enough, where a button hole end of the cable used to be attached to my control peddles there is nothing but a frayed rough end to the cable heading towards the stern of the craft.  I try to cut off the frayed end to see if I can fit it back into the failed brass crimp, and in the process, jam the plier/cutter over the cable not being able to cut further, or release the vice like grasp on the jammed cable. Hmmm. Fortuitous indeed. I had unwittingly created a solid vice that had firm grapes of the cable end.  I simply finished the repair by wrapping the handles in duct tape so they could not open and release the cable, and clipped the peddle linkage into the new bulky end of the assembly.  Working the peddles back and forth I tested
the repair and found it satisfactory except for the temporary loss of my multi-tool to this critical duty.  We button up the hatches and push back off into the frothy tempest.

Navigation is primarily by hand bearing compass and map using the GPS sparingly to save batteries for the critical  passes that from a distance often appear to be unbroken shoreline.  So far we've made no tactical mistakes, but today as the wind pushes us along at close to 4 knots distances shrink.  Just as I reach for the GPS to confirm a bearing before the next big crossing it gives off it's characteristic low battery chime and powers down.  There will be no changing of batteries out here today in these conditions so I wipe the spray off the compass eye piece while Diane steadies the boat and we set a course to a two mile distant point across the stacking minefield of the deep bay.  The rudder repair holds and in no time we tuck into the lee of the far point and stop for a much deserved stretch at the deserted homesite of some early settler with only the broken foundation and some blooming lillies to show for someone's hard fought effort to tame this exposed point in the northern wilds.

Our course turns here, but the wind holds steady so we call a halt to the day early instead of fighting a powerful headwind and end up at this marvelous perch overlooking Grassy Bay.

From 2011 Summer Trip

From 2011 Summer Trip

From 2011 Summer Trip

From 2011 Summer Trip