Nick Builds A Kayak Trailer

The Kayak Trailer Project

I struggled to get the kayak up onto the roof of my high-profile SUV, injuring my shoulder and forearm, scratching the roof of the vehicle, and dropping the kayak once. I decided upon acquiring a used utility trailer, onto which I could just slide the vessel, eliminating the need to lift it above my waist. After a few hours over a period of about one week scanning Craigslist and other sites, I encountered a Harbor Freight (mostly cheap tools from China) ad for a small, new utility trailer, about $200.00. Bought it, put it together in about six hours, knowing that I would have to extend the tongue a considerable length to accomodate the kayak and the turning distance.

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I thought it should be easy enough. Called my friend, Chip Carter -- I think he knows everyone in northern California who can fabricate a part for any purpose. He referred me to a local blacksmith shop in Vallejo, Uebner and Byerrum. Yes, a smithey shop owned by two guys around my age with the most incredible, old-timely equipment I have ever seen. The place is a functioning museum of antique block and tackle, forge, and other metal-working tools and equipment.

I went back to them in a few days to get the new, primed nine-foot aluminum tube. Within a few hours, it had a black gloss Rustoleum final coat. It attached easily since, of course, Karl The Smithey fabricated it perfectly, ensuring that all the mounting holes replicated the original exactly. So, now, transporting and launching my beautiful mango-colored vessel is much easier. However, I did struggle a bit with the $30.00 closed cell foam cradle in two seven-inch pieces I bought online -- they don't allow the kayak to slide over them well. Two days ago, I formulated a plan to station her more securely and easily onto the trailer.

I used fence post holders to install a couple of two-inch schedule 40 PVC pipes along the length of the polyurethaned plywood floor I had previously installed. I turned the kayak upside down on the ground and measured the distance between the scupper holes to make sure the kayak would rest balanced and centered. It is a 14-inch span, so I found the center line of the trailer floor and marked seven inches on both sides both of the centerline and positioned the pipes along those two lines running fore and aft of the trailer. I covered the fence post holders and pipes with six-inch wide sections of two welcome mats from Home Depot. Now, my beauty slides on and off the trailer and its cradle smoothly.

I may have completed the final modifications to the trailer and the kayak, but I would not bet on it. Well, my wife might want to get her own kayak next spring or summer. So, I'm thinking that I could attach a couple of posts to the trailer and get a J-mount holder, they come in two separate parts, and attach them to the posts. I would have to lift her kayak about chest high, but hers would be smaller and lighter and I anticipate a few more years of sufficient strength to manage that. After that, well she is younger, perhaps we could lift it together.

Kayak Fishing: The Beginning

I Take Up Kayaking And Think Of Fish

I am starting to enjoy the outdoors more; always have really, but now I devote more time to the remarkable opportunities before me here in the San Francisco Bay area. We have thousands of miles of shoreline along the Pacific Coast, and along this area's bays, delta, rivers, and lakes. I thought about kayaking over the years as an idyllic means of getting myself on the water, but allowed other priorities to distract me from that pursuit, until a couple of months prior to this writing, when I engaged a professional kayak/fishing guide, Allen Bushnell, for a day outside of Santa Cruz Harbor. That was my tipping point, literally as well as figuratively.

Shortly after that, I purchased an Ocean Kayak Trident 13 that I have been rigging as a sleek, beautiful, water-skimming, silent fish-killing machine. After a month or so of reading, viewing, visualizing, trying, installing, re-installing, and investing in my need to optimize this vessel; I have not caught a single fish while sitting upon it on a body of water. However, I do expect that soon all those descriptors in the previous sentence will be accurate to some extent.

We yakkers often think about modifying our kayak's rigging for our unique needs, making or acquiring external devices like carts, trolleys, milk crates, etc. to overcome storage, anchoring, transporting, and other challenges. Some of us first try to create what we need at home.

I have a high-profile SUV, a Honda Element, and my 13' 6" yak weighs over 65 pounds, so we're talking a challenge here in getting her atop the vehicle and secured to the roof racks. I built a yak rooftop roller out of PVC on which, from the rear of the vehicle, I can slide the yak upside down onto my roof racks with less exertion than if I tried lifting from the driver side.

I considered how I would get the yak to the vehicle and then to the launch site without lifting or dragging it. Armed with ideas from YouTube vids uploaded by my fellow yakkers, I made a kayak trolley, again mainly out of 1-1/4" schd 40 PVC, a pair of wheels from ACE hardware, and a 1/2" aluminum rod as an axle.

I have no real experience in commanding anything that floats. I was sure that in most bodies of water, if I need to fish from a stationary spot, I had to consider anchorage. My research revealed the danger of anchoring a kayak from the side, which could expose me to a capsizing if a boat wake, wave, or fast moving current were to hit me broadside. Anchoring from the bow or stern is really necessary.

Seated in a kayak, one doesn't move to those distal ends easily. My YouTube mentors had solutions and left me several vids on this issue. I rigged my anchor trolley using a single 1-1/2" O-ring, 3/8" nylon chord, two pulleys, and two carabineers so that I can move the anchor point quickly from bow to stern and vice-versa. I can also release the anchor, tethered to a float, with one fast tug on the line at the Harken Cleat I installed inside the yak. This enables me to chase a hooked fish big enough to tow me any distance, or paddle quickly away from the spot, if necessary, and return to retrieve the anchor.

My kayak was equipped to appeal to anglers. It came with a cleverly designed molded plastic hatch cover into which one can insert rod holders, posts to support electronic nav devices, and whatever "must have this" items we imaginative types can conjure. Its location is directly in front of the seat, eliminating some of the need to reach behind for poles and other essentials. As yet I am finding that the poles in front idea has its problems; things seem to be in my way. I may just get two Scotty or RAM flush mount rod holders and place them behind me. I need to work to gain confidence in reaching items behind me in the tank well, however, because, since that dunking in Santa Cruz, I am fearful. I'll work on it.

Milk crates from Office Depot, designed to hold manila folders and such, are popular storage items for yakkers. With our old friend PVC lashed to their sides, they make good rod holders for the paddle out to fishing spots and contain our necessary assortment of tackle. I have seen vids of guys turning these devices into rod holders at roughly 45 degrees for trolling while paddling in open water. I spent a few hours trying this before deciding that commercial rod holders for kayaks are cheap, light-weight, easy to install, and a reasonable departure from my commitment to DIY. I also spent considerable time trying to figure out how to position my milk crate behind me; oh yes, I must have one. I went back to a vid I had viewed previously in which the guy affixed it atop the tank well in the rear, creating a two-tier storage area. I'm for that and expect to start that project soon. I'll post it.

OK, so, I struggled testing just the right position for this stupid milk crate, and finally concluded that this just isn't worth the effort and frustration. I mean, I am all about DIY, y'know, but c'mon, how important is this, really? Heck with it. Those guys on YouTube who have posted vids of their milk crates are serious-as-hell fishermen, whereas I am a paddler who would love to catch some fish, but I am not close to having all that fishing tackle; two poles at the most, for I surely cannot manage any more on dry land let alone on a kayak, and a couple of rigs for lures. Not gonna fool around with live or frozen bait much, might troll Rat-L-traps, or jig the bottom, but I don't need much tackle for that. Happy to be a minimalist kayaker person. That's it. Unless, perhaps . . . naahhh, fuggit about it.

Today, 10/07/2011, I paddled a portion of the San Pablo Bay from the Vallejo launch ramp to the Vallejo Marina, less than 2.1 miles out. Had intended to paddle underneath the Hwy 37 bridge to the mouth of the Napa River, but the tide and wind were both against me outbound, and I did not want to push my tired, old body irresponsibly. All I had to do to return to the ramp was steer, fastest I ever traveled on a yak. Seemed like an hour paddling out and five minutes to drift back. Still, I enjoyed being on the water, as always.

Fishing From A Kayak: I decimate stocks of Rock Cod and terrorize survivors

09/06/2011

I developed an interest in kayaking recently and have enjoyed several hours paddling around the very calm, brackish, inland waters of the San Francisco Bay area: Napa River, Suisuin Slough, The Delta. While investigating kayaking opportunities, I read some articles online and watched some videos of fishing from a kayak.

"Something I have to try soon," I thought.

I googled "kayak fishing" (I first wrote "I searched online", but having accepted google as a verb and participle, I feel good about the greater word economy, don't you?), and within two or three links, found Allen Bushnell, owner/operator/guide of Santa Cruz Kayak Fishing. After a couple of message exchanges, we settled upon a private guided trip on Labor Day. Allen checks weather and sea conditions and fish reports constantly and felt confident that all indications pointed to a good day.

ImageAnticipating a memorable experience with an expert guide, my wife and I loaded up the car, drove down to Carmel and then back up to Scotts Valley for the night. Up at 5:30 a.m. next morning, we drove down to the harbor to meet Allen. The affable guy unloading two kayaks and gear from his van as we pulled up was indeed our man. He had my wetsuit ready and told me to change in his van. We went through some basics about launching, the pole rigging he thought would be optimal, and most important: balance, a low center of gravity, hypothermia, and other safety items about kayaking before we wheeled the kayaks, poles, other gear, etc. down to the launching dock.

At the dock, Allen told me in detail what to expect from this day and reviewed some of the safety issues.

"Never reach across your body to get something from behind you, as you would if you were in the front seat of your car. That changes your center of gravity and you will tip that kayak in a nanosecond. If what you need is behind you and to your right, keeping your head centered in the middle of the kayak, reach behind you with your right hand and feel for it. Same thing on the left side. Okay?" "Okay," I responded nodding affirmatively.

He handed me the high-tech, waterproof walkie talkie that I would carry and explained what channel we would be on and what the emergency channel would be and how to call for help in the event that we needed it.

We paddled away from the dock, Allen staying close enough to me to talk me through how he wanted to navigate out past the breakers, which I would call sizable, into the open water. He cautioned me to stay close, of course, and we would track on the right close to the boat slips, staying alert for incoming and outgoing boats. We stopped at the spot he always stops at to time the swell, waited for the bigger clean-out wave, and then paddled hard across the mouth of the harbor and rested when we cleared it. Allen is the kind of guide in whom you have confidence immediately. Everything he does is purposeful and economical of movement. You can see that he scans his universe, and is aware and alert: the swells, the changing weather and wind, wildlife, kelp, surface conditions, his client, traffic, anything that might affect his mission.

Now, past the breakers, after a brief rest, we paddled smoothly and easily to Allen's first fishing spot. Onboard his kayak, he has sophisticated depth finders, fish finders, GPS devices, walkie talkie; and they all seem to have redundant systems. He had four or five fishing poles already rigged standing upright in PVC tubes and molded holes in the top of his kayak, and tackle boxes lashed securely behind him. Just the sight of all that gear in and on his 15-foot Ocean "Prowler" Kayak tells you that he is serious and knowledgeable about this business and that I should just follow his lead, and all will be well. We chatted while we paddled and he explained his strategy, the kind of fish inhabiting the area, the bottom structure and its condition after the kind of swells we had been experiencing here, the behavior of the different targeted fish species. Clearly, he had a reason for everything he did and everything he asked me to do.

After a brief paddle, we stopped, I think partly so that Allen could observe me and assess my condition. Apparently satisfied that I showed no signs of stress, he reminded me of a few things as we paused:

"When we stop to drop our lines, or do anything really, you will be more stable if you let your feet dangle off the sides of the kayak; that keeps you balanced and lowers your center of gravity."

I acknowledged that I understood his instruction by carefully dangling my feet over the sides. "Life this?" "Perfect."

We fished the bottom with frozen squid for a while, and I got a few nibbles probably from small Kingfish, which we did not want. Allen said we'd give it a few more minutes and if we had no action, we'd move to his next spot.

We tried this spot for about another 5 minutes and prepared to paddle on. With my feet inside the kayak on their footrests, I reached across my body with my right arm to put the pole in the left-side holder, turned my head to the left off the centerline, leaned the way my head was now positioned, and in a nanosecond, the left rail rose off the surface and no correction was possible. Oh, shit!"Going in," I shouted the obvious.

I realized the pole and reel were already in the water and lost before I was, myself, completely submerged. Of course, my personal flotation device (PFD we old salts like to call them) bobbed me back up to the surface. Calm but regretful and embarrassed, I floated on my back staying near the upside down kayak and said nothing. Allen said nothing. I saw him out of the corner of my eye, his head down, working on some tackle. Still with his head down, tending to a hook and sinker he was putting together

"Straighten your legs out; get them perpendicular to the surface. With your left hand, grab the first scupper hole you feel. Now, with your right hand reach over to the scupper hole on the opposite side, hoist yourself a bit and grab hold. I'll paddle over in a minute," he shouted.

I wonder now if Allen wanted to give me a bit of time in the water to think it all over, y'know, or perhaps let his client calm down a bit after the event before saying anything. Since I was with Allen, it was easy to remain calm. Otherwise, I can force calm when I have to. I've had some experience with that, and this was not going to be the worst. I was accepting of the embarrassment and the regret about losing the gear, and the wetsuit was doing its job and the PFD was doing its job and Allen was doing his job. Really, I was thinking about the moment I was having, and it occurred to me that it was interesting to be in this event that is talked about but not really experienced by that many people. "I hope we catch some fish," I thought as Allen approached methodically with instructions about how to right the kayak.

Once upright, and after a brief pause, Allen said, "Nick, my man, let's review, shall we?"

He handed me another pole and rigging and we paddled about one-quarter mile until his fish finder displayed fish about two feet from the bottom.

"Here we go, Nick. Drop your line here and give the reel about two cranks up," he said.

"With my feet in the water, keeping my head facing forward along the centerline of the kayak, carefully reaching for the pole on the left with my left hand and releasing it from its hook, I shall drop my line here," I said.

Allen laughed. I laughed. I repeated that little joke about four or five times to Allen's amusement.

"No one will learn that lesson better than you. It may be the most valuable experience you can have kayaking," he had said once we uprighted the kayak. "I have taken hundreds of people out who only know this cerebrally, you actually experienced it. You are way ahead of everyone else, and you are the guy I would least expect to roll over a kayak in the future."

We went as far as the one-mile buoy, fished several spots that Allen had previously marked on his fish finder, saw sea lion pups and dolphins breaking the surface, watched the biggest flocks of sea birds I had ever seen skim the surface, paddled over a lot of kelp. We experienced changes in wind, current, surface chop, and swell; all of which Allen pointed out to me before I could have observed it.

We caught our limits of Rockfish. We commented on how serene, peaceful, and pleasurable this day was several times during the paddle out and back. We laughed, learned a little about each other, and at the end of the adventure, on shore by his vehicle, we shook hands and did one of those manly hug things with the shoulder clap and all. Allen said that his season runs through the middle of October. I am going to engage him again before he shuts it down for the year. On that day, with my feet in the water, keeping my head facing forward along the centerline of the kayak . . ..

Daughter Jennifer and the Tassimo

I don't believe I ever have my daily espresso without thinking of my daughter, Jennifer. It makes her a part of one of my most important daily activities, almost ritualistically. Jennifer, like me, is a foodie. In her case, I would say a certifiable foodie. I can say that not because of her consumption, which everyone would describe as moderate. It's because of her obvious love for the preparation of the food and her anticipation of what it will do for the people she loves. She is so reflective of her grandmother in that regard.

I allowed a brief thought into my head a few moments ago imagining my life without the Tassimo that Jennifer got for me a few years ago. Having just finished my espresso that Friend Tassimo renders reliably, consistently, efficiently; I'm feeling, well . . . rather good, y'know, serene I would say. Jennifer fits right into that feeling. I suppose its all connected, isn't it?

Next to me on the T.V. tray by my chair is the now empty, hand-painted, Italian espresso cup from the set I keep close to the machine. My process for making this oh so important little dose of flavor and stimulus is consistent and efficient. Everything I need to achieve this peace is close at hand in a corner pantry I constructed downstairs next to the garage man-door, which separates the under-the-bedroom garage from the steps to my kitchen. It is out of ear shot of my still sleeping wife. It all works rather well, and that alone provides an element of satisfaction.

Tassimo Coffee Maker

I anticipate the preparation with pleasure:

   
• Ensure sufficient water in the reservoir
   
• Insert the Gevalia espresso disc
   
• Temper the espresso cup with hot water using the microwave next to Friend Tassimo and coordinate that with the timing of the water heating to optimal temperature in the Tassimo heating element
   
• Toss the cup's hot water contents into the old-fashioned laundry sink inside the garage and hustle back to place the now hot cup in position
   
• Push the button to start the auto process and when that is complete, push it again to top off the cup with a little more liquid and an extra portion of that marvelous froth
   
• Add just that little mini-spoon of sugar (Oh, gimme a break)
   
• Enjoy the aroma, the heat, the taste, the feeling

There is more to the ritual, but I think this sufficient to present the idea.

I suppose the effects of insomnia can be unsettling and inconvenient for many. Working from home as I do on a project to project basis, my sporadic insomnia is not all that disruptive to my routine and does not restrict my output of work. I wonder if, given what I feel with Jennifer and my espresso helping me, I am not developing an appreciation for insomnia. I have this opportunity for quiet, reflective time before I start working. I'm feeling good. I'm able to write a bit. Not so bad, really. And there are thoughts of my daughter, always very good thoughts.