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< November December 2003
	Hotline
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Surf Kayaking in the Land of Darkness: Homer, Alaska

We’re at the "end of the road," the "halibut fishing capital of the world" and the self-proclaimed "cosmic hamlet by the sea." As I’m writing, Scott Dickerson, my host for the month of January, is eyeing a swell through his binoculars from my third-story window, the best view in the house. It’s 10:30 a.m., and it’s just getting light enough to see in the land of the midday darkness. He’s not the only one in this frozen town of 5,000 who’s anxiously looking out his window for a curling wave, a potential ride.

The swell is up today and the phones are beginning to ring. Homer’s regulars send the lines buzzing as the flurry blows outside. The snow is flying from the northwest, an offshore breeze is menacing the cod-fishing boats but holding the southeast swell. Within five minutes the truck is loaded with kayaks and drysuits. We skid out of the driveway. A rusted Subaru with a kayak in the front seat cuts us off as we slide to a stop on the snowy road. The parade has begun, and as we drive the half-mile to the Homer Spit break, the procession lengthens. The buzzing on the phones has become a rattling of battered cars and pickups on their way toward the water. The parade migrates throughout the day from beach to beach, following the 20-foot tides as they uncover sand bars and rocks and change the swell.

It’s a far cry from summer, when sunlight and tourists flood the streets. And it’s a far cry from fall, when most locals head south to Hawaii, Mexico, Florida, anywhere to escape the coming cold and cabin fever. A few of us, however, are anxious for darkness to fall and the waves to rise. We pay the price in darkness, frostbite and hypothermia, but the surfing is worth it. The kayakers among us have caught on to a perfect cure for cabin fever, the remedy seen in a bunch of bobbing kayakers just outside the break, eyes straining in the half-light, waiting expectantly for the next set. We cannot be considered sane. Harbor seals and sea otters look on with curiosity as we paddle in contrived fur of drysuits, neoprene, PFDs and helmets. Door-sized floats of ice catch the set’s first waves, matching the frozen hair clattering on our helmets. We have denied cabin fever, choosing a different form of insanity.

—Kyle Hofseth

Canoe Concert

Fiddles on the Tobique strikes a chord

Bill Miller has a dream—the simultaneous combination of an afternoon’s paddle with a raucous concert. "I want to see a thousand canoes in the river with everybody enjoying the music," he says. While a bit surreal, his dream is very much a reality, though 251 canoes shy. The self-proclaimed "Mayor of Nictau" (pop. 16) is the founder and driving force behind Fiddles on the Tobique, a one-day event held in late June on the Tobique River, in northwestern New Brunswick.

The 10th annual event attracted 759 canoes and 100 musicians—fiddlers, guitar and mandolin players and even keyboarders—all of whom made the four-hour float from Nictau to Riley Brook in an eclectic flotilla ranging from single craft to elaborate canoe-supported stages. Tunes like "Big John MacNeil" and "Amazing Grace" took on a new tone being played on a slow-moving river. "This is a celebration of the role the canoe and the fiddle have played in the history of Canada," says Miller. "When this country was founded, the canoe was our only transportation and the fiddle was our music." Kirk Wipper, founder of the Canadian Canoe Museum in Peterborough, Ontario, calls Fiddles on the Tobique "one of the rare festivals that is truly Canadian. It’s the vanguard of what Canadian celebrations should be."

Miller, a third-generation wood canoe builder, estimates close to 15,000 people have attended the event from such diverse locales as England, Holland, Japan and Egypt, all without any advertising. And Mayor Miller has another project in mind for his beloved Tobique River. "Someday," he says, "I hope to have an entire orchestra come down the river in canoes playing Handel’s ‘Water Music.’" Info: canoe@nbnet.nb.ca

—Ron Caldwell

Capone Classic

Chicago race raises awareness for urban river

Though Chicago paddling may not have the same notoriety as Wrigley, MJ or Capone, Windy City boating is making riffles, as evidenced by this year’s Third Annual Chicago River Flatwater Classic. On Aug. 10, a record 800 canoeists and kayakers participated in the 7.25-mile race from the city’s Clark Park to the Ping Tom Memorial Park. "In addition to being a one-of-a-kind urban activity, it showed the ecological and environmental progress that has been made along parts of the river," says Laurene von Klan, executive director of Friends of the Chicago River, the official presenter of the race. "Participants also experienced why the Chicago River still needs their friendship, attention and support." Paddlers in 28 different classes participated in the event, with Chicago’s David Csicsko marking the fastest solo sea kayak time in 1:07:37. Bridget Murphy, of Oak Park, Ill., bested the women’s solo field at 1:07:56. The event also had a corporate challenge Voyageur class, won by the Chicago office of Marsh in 1:18:08.

An urban river, the Chicago suffers from pollution and inadequate public access. Friends of the Chicago River, and title sponsor Jenner & Block, hope the race raises awareness of the river. "For a long time the river was blocked from view by fences and buildings, and treated like a garbage dump," says Margaret Frisbie, deputy director of Friends of the Chicago River. Despite its troubled past, the river is home to 65 species of fish and dozens of species of birds and mammals. "Today it has vastly improved and we want people to see that, to feel it, and to start to be part of continued improvement. The Flatwater Classic is a great way to make that happen."

—mh