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Kite Kayaking Central America
5/16/99 by Jean-Philippe
Soule |
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How is it
possible to kayak 5000 miles between Mexico and Panama? When you look at a
map it isn't; it doesn't add up. The distance tracing the coast is closer to
2000 miles. That's because when we planned the Central American Sea Kayak
Expedition it wasn't just about paddling from Baja to Panama. It was about
using kayaks as a means of transportation to visit the indigenous people of
Central America and document their lifestyles. When you add up all the
coastal mileage, crossings and river paddling into wild rainforest, 5000
miles becomes a good estimation. Have you ever set out to paddle 5000 miles?
Neither have we. Wind should be used to your advantage. Sailing is an
option, but on a kayak it only works downwind. How about a traction kite? We
looked at the new cult in boardsailing and saw them tacking up wind, jibing,
maneuvering quickly and generating speed like never before. Would it work
for us on our fully loaded expedition kayaks? This is what we wondered a
couple of years ago when we were planning this expedition. If there was a
way to use a double-line control kite, we would find out and CASKE 2000
would be the best way to test it.
The first
time I saw a kite of any type attached to a kayak was on a short Australian
documentary on the circumnavigation of New Guinea. I was fascinated by the
bright parafoils floating in the air 50 feet above the kayaks. But I thought
their use was too limited. They were single-line kites, which meant they
only pulled the kayaks straight downwind. After a few months of research, I
found two double-line kites which could fly even when wet. One was a giant
delta wing developed for speed water skiing, but it had a heavy and bulky
design. The other one was a five-square-meter parafoil with an inflatable
frame developed in France for windsurfers. It looked promising.
When I
ordered my first kite and took it out for its first test run, I went
sprawling out of control sliding around on my stomach on a snowfield near
where I was living in Hokkaido, northern Japan. My friends laughed and
advised me to abandon the idea and get a sail. My thoughts were that a sail
would take too much space, add more weight and wouldn't match the speed of
the kite. My mind was made up; I was going to learn how to use this thing.
It didn't take long to convince my expedition partner Luke to buy his own
kite. We spent the full winter skiing on the snow-covered beaches of
Hokkaido. The five square meter wing pulled us at incredible speeds. On
windy days we would even catch air off of the bumps. And with our
ski edges holding our line in the snow, tacking upwind was easy. If it was
possible on skis, I thought it ought to be possible on a kayak. It was all
theory of course, as I hadn't much kayaking experience. As of the winter of
98, I had never sat in one.
In the spring
of 98, we flew to Thailand to learn the basics of sea kayaking from Sea
Canoe International with Dave Williams, a hot shot white-water paddler from
the '80's, and John "Caveman" Gray, an experienced man of the sea
from Hawaii. We finished our kayak training in the Pacific waves of Baja
learning from the master in the field, Ed Gillet.
On October
98, we pushed off from San Felipe for La Paz, the first section of our
Expedition. Our Feathercraft kayaks were barely floating with an incredible
load of equipment. Planning for a two and half-year odyssey, we had no
choice but to load each boat with a mountain of gear. We were even forced to strap
three large dry bags on deck. We learned the hard way, that we were way
overloaded.
The Sea of Cortez was our testing ground. Dead calm seas often changed
rapidly into blustery chop and we encountered full-blown storms with 8 to 12
foot waves. The relative narrowness of the body of water also created steep
wave shapes and shorter frequencies. The opportunities to use the kites were
very limited. Strong gusts and an excess of equipment on deck made it
impossible and our two kiting tests failed.
In March 99,
we portaged through Mexico to Belize. The second leg of the expedition was
designed to start in Belize City and end up at the border of Costa Rica from
which we would portage across the country to paddle the Pacific coast until
the Darien Gap of Panama. Protected by a barrier reef, Belize was the
perfect place to try out the kites. We had significantly less equipment on
deck than in Baja, the wind was fairly consistent, and the waves were very small.
On March 24,
we were on a small tropical island next to the reef. The wind was strong but
not gusty. The conditions were good. I emptied my kayak, put on the
sea-sock, and for our first test, added the lateral sea wings for increased
stability. We thought of using a sea anchor to keep enough tension on the
lines to launch the kite from the water. But this first time we were just
trying to sail, and Luke would launch the kite standing in knee-deep water
and hand it off to me after I got situated in my kayak.
I fastened my
spray skirt. The wind was strong enough to throw Luke in the water. He
didn't let go and stood back up in waist deep water and kept control of the
kite. With my paddle attached to the deck, I just hand paddled to him. He
handed me off the control bar while holding me until I had the kite in a
stable position 50 feet above my head. We were ready for what we were sure was
going to be very brief glory. I gave the order, "Let
go!" I threw the kite into a crosswind and the acceleration almost
pulled me out of my seat. Skimming across the water, I could hear the sound
made by the sea-wing sponsoons strapped to the side. They were causing much
resistance in the water, but I was going fast enough to leave a wake behind
the kayak.
The kite was
fairly easy to handle and required only minor adjustment to stay up in the
crosswind. With a leeboard I could have tacked upwind without any
difficulty. Within a few minutes I was already far enough from the island
that I couldn't see Luke standing on the beach. I wanted to come back on a
broad reach with the crosswind, but first I had to change direction. It had
been an easy maneuver on the skis, but this time I made the mistake of
turning the kite and the kayak at the same time. When both faced downwind,
the kayak accelerated quickly in the direction of the wind and the kite no
longer had as much resistance, the tension on the lines sagged and it
stalled in the water right in front of my bow. Without a sea anchor to keep
my boat static during the launch and offer resistance to the kite, all my
efforts were in vain and I just drifted for ten minutes.
I packed
everything into a small bag and paddled back. I was very surprised about the
distance I had covered in so little time. The boat had certainly reached
maximum hull speed with the sponsoons attached. I felt like with practice,
we could kite without the sea wings and be rid of their added resistance. My
first test was more successful than I expected. Running on a crosswind was
easy and fast. Ironically, going downwind was more of a problem.
Three days
later, Luke and I were set to paddle 15 miles to a small Garifuna town on
the mainland. The wind was moderately strong and directly from the rear. Our
two kayaks were loaded up with our 400 lbs. of gear, food and water. We
decided to tie our kayaks together with a towrope. I put on the sea wings
and prepared to pilot the kite while Luke, being dragged behind, prepared
his sea anchor for possible water starts. I sat in my kayak. Luke handed me
the control bar with the kite in the hover position in the air and held on
to the rope tying my stern to his bow, and worked his way back to his kayak.
While he got in his cockpit, I kept the kite hovering but already we were
moving. As soon as his spray skirt was secured, I brought the kite down into
the wind and traced figure eights in front of me to maintain a downwind
course. I expected that we would last only 20 seconds but the extra
resistance in the water of a second kayak prevented us from accelerating
much faster than the kite and I was able to keep it in the air.
The only
ensuing problem that I encountered was that I had not planned to have the
kite in the air for long and wasn't prepared for the intense strain on the
arms. I should have put on my harness and clipped the kite to it. After 10
minutes, in spite of all the resistance in the water, we were moving as fast
as our top paddling speed had ever been, but my arms were sore and my
shoulders filling up with lactic acid. A few times I put the kite back above
me in the hover position and rested my arms for a few seconds. Then I sent
the kite back into its figure eight pattern in the sky.
Each time you
send the kite from one side to the other, its velocity increases quickly and
it pulls hard on your arms. Even with the sea wings, I had to anticipate
that side pull and put pressure on my knees to compensate for it. I think it
would be possible to do it without the sea wings after much practice.
After 20 minutes of successful sailing, I dropped the kite in the water a couple of
times. The wind was starting to die on us. Luke didn't need to use the sea
anchor as he was able to apply enough resistance by backpaddling to allow me
to launch the wet kite. When we reached the Midway Islands, the wind died
entirely leaving our kite floating in the water. We packed it and started
paddling the 13 miles to our destination.
In half an hour
of kiting we had covered 2 miles. Because I had not put on my harness, it
was more exhausting than if I had paddled. However, I was ecstatic to find
that one kite was able to pull two heavily loaded kayaks with the added drag
of a pair of seawings at 4 knots. Imagine that a 5 square meter kite folds
into a small bag weighing less than 2 lbs. There is a 3.5 square meter version weighing less than a
pound and half. Kite kayaking certainly has the potential to become a big
water sport but it may not be practical forcovering long distances on
long expedition paddles, at least not when most of the paddling is against
headwinds or irregular crosswinds. We had great fun. got strange looks from
boaters passing by, but it turns out that we will be paddling most of the
distance after all.
by
Jean-Philippe Soule
(view profile)
