“We can take extra stuff, right? It’s not like we’re carrying it…it’s in a boat!”
Yeah…no. Well, to an extent. That mindset governed our raced packing as we had put everything we thought we would need for 25 days of sea kayaking. We all regretted this as we learning how to pack the boats. The first time we attempted, it took us two hours.
Since the tide had gone almost all the way out, we placed the three doubles and six singles considerably far in toward the land so that by the time we finished packing, the tide would have come in and make it easy to push the boats out. In theory. I found myself a little skeptical at first…how hard can it be to pack a boat?
Two hours of standing in cold hydro skins in the end of winter in New Zealand packing, shoving, rotating, heaving made us rethink that brilliant decision to bring a few extra layers, several books, and whatever else we thought wouldn’t matter because we were in boats. Not to mention three and a half weeks of food for twelve people which included each cook groups three to four bags plus twenty-two food babies. Kayaks have this interesting shape, see, it’s like packing a banana. Things fit differently.
Sean tried to demonstrate the technique in one of the smaller single kayaks and it worked until he got stuck and had to rethink the matrix himself whereby Nick took over with a huge wave of enthusiasm and jumping up to rotate his sleeping bag down into a tiny space. Funny faces included.
For the first few days, I shared a double with James. We decided to try to each pack our own things in the front and back hatches first, and then to pack the group gear and what we couldn’t fit of our things in the large center hatch.
I bent down and peered into the hatch which would supposedly fit this giant boat bag of stuff. If I tried, I could fit my entire body into that boat bag…and have extra room. While I may be small, I don’t think I could fit into that front hatch. Maybe if I detached my arms and legs somehow or I became a gumby doll that could bend in any direction, but it didn’t look likely that could happen.
Beginning with my cut down z-lite sleeping pad (at an once per panel, I cut it down to ten panels to save weight later on), I shoved it at the very tip. To do so, I had to kneel and put almost my whole right arm into the hatch to properly get the pad stuck in there. Other small items then wedged themselves up there like my rain pants and jacket, bowl, and fake crocs. With the remaining space, I had two medium dry sacks which didn’t mold well, but stayed primarily in an annoying cylindrical shape. I also had my sleeping bag, one smaller dry sack, and one of our cook groups large food bags. After a great deal of shoving and rotating of bags, I fit all but the small dry sack and the boat bag itself into the hatch. A few times, I put almost all of my body weight on the sacks to get them down into their proper space.
James managed to do a little better than me and get all of his stuff into the back hatch in a diligently thought out, super precise plan. We strangled the neoprene hatch covers back on, which was always a challenge because once you got one side, the other would inevitably pop off and this would go back and forth with frustration. Taking a deep breath, the two of us began on the pile of group gear that we had to fit into the middle hatch, which, luckily, was quite a bit larger. We began by shoving the tent fly down under the front seat which provided an awkward u-shape of space that wouldn’t fit much else. To do this successfully, I had to straddle the boat and put my upper body down into the hatch and poke and shove until it molded itself to the u-shape. Fun, right?
We packed six food babies and the library. Yes, we had a library. It weighed maybe fifteen pounds and contained books on all kinds of topics, edible plants, New Zealand history, weather formations, NOLS instructional books, kelp, sea creatures, etc. Picking it up, all I could think about was how I hoped we didn’t have to take that backpacking. This comes from me, who cuts books in halves or thirds, sometimes quarters and mails the parts ahead so I don’t have to carry the weight of a whole book. This hatch, I came to like quite a bit; we packed everything including my small dry sack and boat bag with extra room! We ended up taking a few other people’s leftover items that wouldn’t fit.
“Good thing these will only get easier to pack!” Sean yelled as he practically stood on his sleeping bag to get it into the boat. “Just keep eating and it will get easier!”
Don’t have to tell that to me twice! I have experience that with pack weight on my back many times.
Just like clockwork, by the time we managed to get everything into the boats, the tide quickly approached the bows and it only took a few feet of sliding to ease them into the water, ready for take off. Conveniently, the sun came out and the crepuscular rays made beautiful lines down from the sun to the water and the hills that rose above them. Or really, what remained of the hills–the Marlborough Sounds was actually sunken valleys.
We set off on a small day whichtook us about three and a half nautical miles to Double Beach. Beginning, we all had different paces and had to work out to paddle together in a pod formation which placed us in a diamond shape: a leader, two wings, and a caboose with everyone else in the middle. We quickly learned to watch out if the doubles had flanks because we didn’t want to scrape the fiberglass on rocks just under the surface near the coastline.
When we got there, we set up camp following the instructions of the “beach boss” and his or her assistant whose job included running around and discovering good campsites, water, and pit toilet (if one existed). As soon we unpacked the boats and set up the tent and tarp, we quickly changed out of the wet hydro skins to stop shivering. Only then would our fingers work properly, usually after a solid warming in the armpits. We would stay there for two nights and learn some good skills before venturing onward.