What is the worst thing about kayaking? Capsizing, at least for me it is. With over 3,000 miles kayaked I’ve only performed the stunt maybe a dozen times. But, I also need to include many times I didn’t sink. That would be times when adrenaline was pumping while taking in water, battling waves, thinking I was going into the brink. Enough times that I have bad dreams of being in whitecaps. Now, even when I’m not in a kayak and see whitecaps, or fast moving river water, I shake my head and say, MAN, I’m glad I’m not out there.
I know less adventurous people than myself who’ve enjoyed white water rafting. For me, the thrill of passing swiftly past boulders and over waterfalls has vanquished with age. Maybe I’m a scaredy-cat, I’m not tempted to try it. Maybe when younger I might have tried, but it’s not going to happen now in my seventies. Just give me calm, slow moving water with serene views.
There are many types of watery places to kayak, but I have my favorite… marshes. I fell in love with them my first day of paddling Swiftee. We were in the headwaters of the Flint River near Oxford, MI April 2005.
They can be a meandering rivers through marshes, or spread out and have many reedy islands. I give two marshy satellite image examples:
These two examples are quite tranquil and I truly recommend them. But, on the other hand, there have been times I’ve been lost in labyrinths of reedy islands. But it’s no worse than a corn maze, you know eventually you will find your way out. Being dazed and confused and can be fun.
Yet, after all that positive talk of marshy environs, two of my most hellish kayaking days were when lost in marshes. The first time was on the North Branch Cass River. It was the pre-runyak days, when exploring the entire Saginaw Valley. That kayak season of 2008 I covered the entire open waters of Cass watershed in 13 days. Day 6 was one I’d like to forget. This is the map included in the journal 16 years ago.
In the write-up, more than once I called the “BEYOND HELL” area of the map Willard. Remember the movie tagline, Where your nightmares end...WILLARD begins? The nightmare began soon after launching from Germania Rd, but Willard began when entering the larger ellipse area. Lost, and not finding a way through the reeds I had to get out of Swiftee and push him through cattails, all while my legs sank into muck. I lost a Garmin Forerunner in the process which was velcroed to my wrist. That further made me feel lost.
I’d spent hours trying to find my way out of the wilderness. I truly believe no human had been there before, or ever again. When I made it out of Beyond Hell, to plain Hell (smaller ellipse) the river there was jam packed with debris, but at least that lost feeling had been eliminated.
The other nightmarish day was during the first runyak year, 2009, on Runyak DAY 15. I was trying to get from Sebewaing, MI, to Bay Port MI. I was in Saginaw Bay’s Wild Fowl Bay State Wildlife Area. A better map can be seen by clicking the link but this one give a general idea:
I was trying to cut through the anvil shaped peninsula made of cattails. I remind you this was 2008, I did not have a smartphone with Google Map imagery. I used a hand-hand Magellan GPS which pointed an arrow in the direction one needs to go. So, I can’t say I was totally lost. In the process I was constantly trying to get around islands of reeds. It was good to find cuts like in this photo but,
then other times I’d have no choice to get out and push Swiftee through the rushes.
In this picture I’m standing in muck.
Each step I took released marsh gas that smelled like rotten egg. I’d been lost long enough that it was getting dark. That’s what scared me the most… still being in the marsh in the dark of night. My van was in Bay Port, my destination. There was no way I’d get there before dark. If I could just get to the mainland, Wild Fowl Point, I’d leave Swiftee, hike the darkness to Bayport. I quote here from my book The Runyaker’s Journey, when I made it out of the rushes:
Once in the open water I saw a point ahead, but it was another point, beyond it needed to get to, the one that the GPS arrow was pointing toward, Wild Fowl. It was well over a mile away. I paddled madly, for it was after 8:00 pm and I was running out of daylight. Now in open water waves from the north were slowing my rate, but magically I found a burst of energy and paddled more ferociously than before.
I made mainland, and ran 1.25 mile in sandals, in the dark, to the van in Bay Port.
Never before had my van seemed like such a refuge. In it I felt so relieved. I took off my wet garments and put on dry clothes. I was just beginning to feel some comfort but had one more task before me.
Which was to go back and retrieve Swiftee.
So, with marsh history like you’ve just read, you may wonder why marshes are my favorite places to kayak. Some marshes are diamonds, others are stones. You just have to know the ones to avoid. Please give the two excellent ones I mentioned a try and you will have a great experience. Use my advice, don’t go chasing waterfalls, or marshes on your own.
Here are links to full write-up of the worst days in marshes.
Marsh Gas? Oh, yuck!