My New Year's resolution is to retire. Not from paid work - unless I find a winning lottery ticket in the street, but from my second job as COP boating chair.

Since being asked to chair boating since 1997, I've done a lot more "chair" than boating. I've turned a seemingly innocent volunteer position into a half-time job. I've locked horns with the board and eluded both the matador and picador. I've presided over interesting times and troubled waters and watched and helped our program expand, contract and change. We have attracted and kept some fine paddlers and teachers new to the organization and bade farewell to others as they moved away, started families or rode off to other sunset destinies.

I will serve as chair until the end of FY '03 and hope to find a replacement that I can work with this year and help them transition into the role this year and next. It's a job that requires the skills of communication, perseverance, patience and the abilities to plan and forecast and involve other skilled volunteers in the process of both changing and maintaining the boating program. Notice I didn't say anything about needing an open boat roll or flat spins or side surfing! I plan to stay active in COP boating but in a lesser capacity. Any takers?

So, on to the eddy lines portion of things. January brings us the first Kayak I school, the first Eskimo roll school. February hosts the second Eskimo roll school. Applications for these fine schools led by Dan Downes and Mark Steinmetz are in this newsletter. A second Kayak I will be scheduled for early March or late February with Larry Krall as lead instructor. Sunday roll sessions will be held 11 a.m. to 1 p.m. at the Greenhouse Aquatic Center. Fees have jumped a buck to help defray insurance premium spikes post 9/11. A map to the pool will appear magically somewhere in the newsletter. We have many volunteers to thank for hosting the pool sessions. A note for attendees: Seal launches will be allowed but must be done on the fake grass carpet sections we'll have at the pool. Also, if you can't eat an omelet out of the bottom of your boat, leave it at home! Dirty boats will be turned away. The time it takes to de-leaf and spray out your boat at the car wash will be worth the good will it engenders us at the Greenhouse.

Looking ahead to the rest of the boating season, there will be a canoe camping trip on the Kokosing in February with Keith Finn, a couple Slippery Rock trips in March. March also brings up the rafting section meeting led by Ann Gerckens, the southern flatwater trip with Finn and a Little Sandy/Upper Big Sandy at the end of the month with Mark Steinmetz and Eric Gehres. We do need a volunteer to run a local icebreaker trip on February 23.

Time now to check your gear for necessary repairs and replacements and head to the gym where your presence has been missed all season. Time also to mark your calendars with boating events and for that special someone to clear their desk and take up the reins as boating chair so I can work on neglected areas of my "other" life and also……………

See You On The Water.

Lured by the offer of a hearty breakfast from Chef John Lane, COP whitewater enthusiasts came together December 8th last year to discuss the course of COP whitewater programming for the coming years. Addressing the recurrent problem of leader burnout, several ideas were put forth to lessen the load on the volunteer staff and still offer quality whitewater programming of the COP. Duplicate clinics (second offerings) will not be scheduled in the future, allowing the volunteers to focus their energies and time in the core whitewater offerings. A goal of a 1:1 teacher/student clinic ratio is something the group hopes to implement in the near future for all clinics.

Forthwith, recreational boat (touring) paddling instruction will be covered under the umbrella of sea kayaking. Those not desiring whitewater paddling experience but wanting to kayak will be directed to sea kayak classes starting in late Spring.

Whitewater paddling is a difficult and, yes, sometimes frustrating sport to master. Having decent equipment with which to learn is certainly necessary. Recent design innovations in factory whitewater boats provide the paddler with a better fitting, easily customized boat. The benefit of these modern boats is manifold and as such, the whitewater group is attempting to acquire four of these modern boats before the 2003 instructional season arrives. Look for details regarding the sale of certain older COP whitewater kayaks soon, which will help fund the updating of the whitewater boat inventory.

As allows a need for whitewater trip leaders is needed to support and nurture our newer program participants. The bonanza of 2003 whitewater trip offerings do provide great opportunities for enthusiasts to get out and get involved. Our volunteer leaders showed "aces" by volunteering at our November scheduling meeting to lead a large and varied number of trips throughout the paddling year. Family class II rafting trips, new kayaker instructional trips, advanced trips on remote Appalachian streams, and more, show up on the 2003 whitewater paddlers menu.

So, grab your towel and swimsuit, and head out to the pool for kayak practice this month! And join us on the river this Spring as the COP whitewater season should be boatloads of FUN.

Note: This whitewater news courtesy of Eric Gehres, the new whitewater director for COP boating. As a result of hard work from Eric, Chris Russell and others, we will be purchasing new whitewater kayaks for this season.

Securing boats and other recreational possessions to one's car top is an art. Attaining a high level of this art is often gained at considerable cost - usually in the forms of plastic gouges and scrapes but sometimes worse. At any roundtable boating discussion or camping weekend, the topic of whose boat fell off whose vehicle when often comes up.

I've personally launched a sailboard mast through an intersection, lost a climbing shoe and harness and lost a kayak from a trailer in rush hour traffic - all due to neglect and forget when I should have paid more attention to what's on top. I'm sure many of you have done the same.

I needed to haul four kayaks back to the barn last fall and was trailer-less and didn't have any fancy saddles or stackers and didn't want to put my Yakima rack on. So, I just tied `em all on and went. I did take some pictures along the way and figured I could share some thoughts about tying gear on top.

This isn't intended to be a master's thesis - just a primer on the subject. First off, each boat likes to have its own set of straps. For example, coming back from Ohio Brush Creek late one fall I ignored a friend's warning that each boat should have its own straps and cheated with one set for two canoes `cause my hands were freezing. Things got all heated up when we were barreling down the highway and the boats started levitating! Next, boats are like people, they're more secure when they're snugly spooned together. So, one convex surface snuggles one concave surface and, like people, certain surfaces work better together - you can just tell.

Next, length is an issue. It's nice if the boats are nearly the same lengthwise but if not you can accommodate front and rear tiedowns with a little ingenuity. Adding these tiedowns can provide an extra measure of security when you're driving 80 and the semis are headed the other way - just a couple feet away - doing 90. Kinda scary, huh?

Back to my little K barn trip. All I did was lash one kayak to the roof, right side up. Then I strapped two more on top, right side up and spooning, with the straps connected to the roof. Then I ran a long strap from the roof around the three kayaks and around the fourth which I placed on its side. Made things pretty snug. Check the photos. Next, I wanted to stabilize the load fore and aft with tiedowns. The sterns were pretty easy to do and since I have only a single tie point in the rear, I just ran a 12' cam strap through the grab loops and secured that to the trailer hitch. Don't have a rear shot, sorry. Then I borrowed a little rope vector technology from rock climbing. I took a piece of nylon rope and strung it through all the grab loops on the kayak bows and tied a knot into it so it was a big circle. Then, I grabbed the rope in each of the spaces between the kayaks and pulled them to a center point. I hooked a carabiner through this so the tension was spread evenly to all the grab loops and then secured the `biner to the tie points on the front of the car.

John Long and others have written about using systems like this to make hanging belays from multiple protection points or protecting a point on a route when you mostly have garbage for protection. I'm not advocating this specific technique for climbing because I've only used one piece of rope and there is no backup if the rope breaks. Also, nylon abrading on nylon is bad news in climbing and should be avoided when possible in other recreation. Since I wasn't going far, I ignored that. If you have enough `biners, you can hook one to each grab loop and clip those into the rope circle. Once the circle is completed and pulled together to a central vector point, arrange the rope so that the attached carabiner can move freely. Check this by moving the `biner back and forth to simulate wind blasts, etc.

There are a bunch of good ways to secure your boats to the rooftop. Maybe you can pick up a hint from me on this. Just don't pick up any bad habits, though. Did I ever tell you about the time I launched Rinda's kayak off the top of Bill's truck heading to the Lower Yough takeout?????????????????????

A little over a year ago my brother and I got into an up and coming sport called adventure racing. We had watched the Eco Challenge on USA Network and both fell in love. Adventure racing is an endurance sport with several disciplines such as mountain biking, kayaking, canoeing, running, ropes, and any other event the organizers of a race feel fit to include. These races are usually held off road and through mountainous terrain. The distances may range from 24-mile sprint races to 400-mile expedition races.

We were new to the sport and only had a few months of training under our belts so we competed in the 26-mile sprint races. We finished four races that summer. After the summer, we began planning our schedule for the following summer. A week later ESPN aired an Adventure race called The Wild Onion, held in Chicago. The thing that separated this race from the rest was that it was termed an Urban Adventure Race, which meant the race was staged in downtown Chicago. Instead of paths and mountains it had busy streets and skyscrapers. We signed up for the 2002 race immediately.

The Wild Onion Urban Adventure Race had disciplines not seen in any other race. The disciplines were comprised of running, canoeing, kayaking, rollerblading, scootering, and mountain biking. The race covered approximately 120 miles and racers finished anywhere from 19 to 24 hours, all of which we were not prepared for, not to mention finding our required female to complete our 3-person team. We began the year by trying to locate a sponsor, a female teammate, and training in ways we've never trained. We soon found our teammate and later in the summer met up with COP who loaned us much of the equipment needed to participate in the race.

We were a well-rounded team. We each had our strengths. COP let us borrow kayaks to work on our strokes and rescues leading up to the race. We practiced on the scooter, felt comfortable with rollerblading, and were taught how to rappel. Then the time had come to see if all the training and hard work would pay off.

We arrived in Chicago on Thursday and the race was set to start at 3pm Friday. Friday morning was the gear check, which was extensive, but we had no hang ups with it. We had already staked out our spot at the transition area (area where we exchange gear during the race) and were happy to find a spot with some shade. Our support crew, who was in charge of getting our equipment together for us during the race, was busy preparing our area for the race. At 11:30 a.m. we were given the maps to the race and had until the first meeting at 1:30 p.m. to work on them. This was the first indication that we were a bit out of our league. My brother and I are good with maps and were confident that we would not have any problem navigating through the city to find checkpoints. This was until we were given latitude and longitude coordinates to find these checkpoints. After about 45 minutes of blank stares at these foreign numbers, our crewmember, Jess, did our dirty work for us and asked another team for help. We learned a lot about plotting coordinates on maps that day, but figured we had done something wrong when one of the coordinates fell smack dab in the middle of the Sears Tower. At 1:30pm we had our pre race meeting. The first thing the race director says, "Yes you will be climbing all 134 flights of the tower". Our race was to begin with a short run from the starting line to our transition area, just to throw on our rollerblades for a 15-mile skate.

Once we got to the starting line I was star-struck recognizing all of the world's elite adventure racers. This was the second sign that we were out of our league. After much anticipation, and a starter gun shot, the race began. We worked quickly with our support crew to get our blades, our packs and all our essentials (food, drink, and such). We got going with the attitude that we weren't afraid to fall behind early as long as we stayed at a good pace. I never imagined I would ever take a tour of the Chicago shoreline by rollerblades, it was awesome. We were one of the last few teams to arrive at the next section of the race. Two of us had to kayak 12 miles on Lake Michigan, while the other team mate was to meet us by walking the coastline 12 miles. We decided that my brother, PJ, would walk the coast and Nicole and I would kayak.

Unfortunately we didn't have a lot to choose from as far as kayaks go, and I ended up in boat that was to small for my 6' 2", 225 pound frame. With my rollerblades on my lap, and our packs secured, we set out against the now 5 foot swells, at about 5:30 p.m. We soon found out that there is no good way in central Ohio to prepare for kayaking on Lake Michigan. I felt very confident, but Nicole was wary of the conditions. We were paddling about 200 yards from shore, and had traveled about 2 miles when it started to get dark. A race coordinator approached us to ask us to get our strobe light out so we could be seen in the dark. Our strobe was in my pack behind me in my kayak's storage compartment. I didn't want Nicole to have to fight the waves and get into my compartment, so I turned to see if I could get it myself. The second I turned a wave hit and I was under water. My boat had taken on a lot of water and we knew right away that we were going to need help getting me back in. With every wave my boat took on more and more water, the bilge pump was useless. After about 40 minutes of treading water, and a heroic effort from the race coordinator, my boat was ready for me. I climbed onto the two boats and got in position to slide into my seat when suddenly the worst cramp of my life ripped through my right calf. Once I could tolerate the pain I slid back into the boat. It just took one crash of a wave before I was back in the water. Again the waves filled my kayak with water, but we were able to learn from the last flip and empty the boat relatively quickly. Once back in my boat we headed further out from shore at the advice of the coordinator. Paddling against the waves wasn't too bad, but once we turned parallel to the shore it was whole other story. Having flipped twice my confidence was shot and my heart raced with every wave. It only took a couple five-foot waves and I was back in the water. With the dark setting in the race coordinator decided to have the coast guard drag us in. So four hours into the race our chances of having an official finishing time were gone.

When we got back to the shore we were given the option to continue the race, but we had to walk the coastline back to the meeting point. We had worked too hard to give up, so we started on our way. To our dismay the shore was a not sandy beach for twelve miles. Most of the walk was made up of eight to ten foot boulders. It was now dark the tide was up and the hike had become very dangerous. About 10 miles into the hike we find out that in order to stay in the race we need to jump in the water and swim about 400 yards across a small bay. So with our packs on, blades hanging to our side, headlamps on our helmets, and waves up to about six feet, we jumped in. We made it to the other side and continued the hike. Needless to say the hike that should have taken 2 hours took us more like four and a half.

We finally met up with my brother at the next checkpoint; he had his own adventure that he had to face on his own. It was now midnight and we faced the decision to stop there or continue on under a revised race route. Teams had to reach the canoeing section by 3 a.m. or they would be cut off. We felt even with the revised route we would not be able to mountain bike 40 miles to the canoe by 3 a.m. Our race was over. No rollerblades, no scooter, no canoe, and no Sears Tower. The three of us all had different emotions towards being done. One thing that we all had, even our crew, was a since of pride for trying and enough stories to tell for years to come. We learn a little something more with every race, and this race exposed us to the incredibly different levels of racing.