GUIDINGlight by sue handel
Transforming the daily Commute C
ommuting to work by kayak is both ideal and illogical. It poses challenges at inopportune moments and makes me crazy sometimes, but it’s also one of the best things about living on Protection Island. Since moving to this eclectic com- munity of 300 near Nanaimo on Vancouver Island’s east coast, I’ve traded my car for a kayak and learned a new set of rules of the road. I begin my commute at first light, carrying my kayak down the gravel road to the beach. I step carefully over the slippery rocks to the shoreline lit- tered with driftwood. I find a spot clear of debris, set my kayak down in the shallow water and begin the 15-minute voyage across the harbour from Protection Island to the downtown Nanaimo dock. In the cold morning air, dew drips off my eye- lashes and my bare fingers are slightly numb on my wooden kayak paddle. As I work my way around the bay, following the shoreline of Protection Island and then crossing the narrow channel over to Newcastle Island Provincial Marine Park, I spot a great blue heron shopping for breakfast near shore. With every stroke, my hands warm up and soon I’m feeling quite cozy in my kayak.
The traffic is light early in the day, with just a handful of Protection Islanders paddling or motor- ing across for work when I do, around 7 a.m. About half of my neighbours have their own boats while the others opt for the small foot-ferry, the Protection Connection, to travel back and forth. The commute is mostly stress-free, but there are hazards. Paddling along the Garry oak–studded shoreline of Newcastle Island toward the city, I strain my eyes watching for the flashing strobe on the far shore. As soon as I see it begin to pulse, I hear the grumble of a floatplane coming in to land
on its first scheduled trip from Vancouver and I know it’s up to me to make sure I’m well out of its path.
I also keep my eyes peeled for deadheads that, like icebergs with the majority of their mass unseen, can leave a nasty dent in a kayak. I once slid right overtop of one without seeing it and had to brace as it popped up and hit my hull. There are occasions when the kayak commute is less than ideal. Take for example grocery shop- ping island-style: a bag of flour, some canned goods, laundry detergent, a 40-pack of toilet paper…it’s bulk shopping at its best. I’ve spent over 25 minutes with shopping bags spread all over the downtown Nanaimo dock trying to stuff groceries in the hatches of my kayak. Someone once asked me what kind of expedition I was packing for.
Like Superman in a phone booth, I regularly duck in to peel off wet raingear and change into city clothes
I learned early on that kayak commuting requires dressing for adventure. Soon after I moved into my cedar-sided house on Protection Island, I put away my long wool jacket and bought the thickest plastic rain jacket and pants I could find. The washroom at the marina in Nanaimo is now an extension of my home. Like Superman in a phone booth, I regularly duck in to peel off wet raingear and change into the city clothes I’ve stuffed into my black dry bag. It’s completely senseless to spend time doing my hair or putting on makeup prior to my kayak com-
Say goodbye to road rage—Paddling is the perfect transition to and from the office
18 Spring 2003
photo Jeff Croft
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