This summer at Pamlico Sea Base we've got an awesome crew of guides.  A few weeks ago we set off on our staff sea kayaking trip. Every year we take our new guides out on a sea kayaking trek along our usual route. The goal is to show them around so they won't get lost getting from place to place, teach them how to manage a group of kayakers, become a pro at beach camping and get the hang of predicting the weather. Our summer trips usually start in the south- at Harker's Island, head south to Cape Lookout or Shackleford Banks, and then turn to head North along Core Banks toward Cedar Island. Most weeks, if luck holds, the summer wind is South-West- at our backs pushing us North East along Core sound and island chain of Core Banks.
Unfortunately for us, the winds hadn't shifted yet when we left for our training trek. NOAA was calling for South winds on Monday followed by gentle North-East winds the rest of the week. The gentle headwind we scoffed at turned into a full blown Nor-Easter.
Sunday we spent prepping for our trip- packing gear, going over the route, showing the guides how to load a kayak trailer and trying to get a good night of sleep before our trek. Monday morning we had strong south winds- 18 knots in the morning- so we stalled and got on the water a little late because the forecast said the wind would die down a bit in the afternoon. The plan was to visit Shackleford where the wild ponies live and then paddle on to camp at Cape Lookout. The wind was south around 12 knots- enough of a headwind to be annoying and choppy but we managed to make decent time to Shackleford. After pausing near the picnic shelter, we headed on to charge Barden Inlet and head to Cape Lookout. We anticipated the crossing would take longer than usual because both the wind and tide were against us- a scenario we like to call "kayak treadmill."

We ended up making great time to Cape Lookout- landing less than an hour after leaving Shackleford. It was still early afternoon when we finished eating lunch and we were still eager to put more miles behind our blades. 5 miles to our north sat a pavillion where we have stopped many times with our groups. With the stiff tail wind we had, we could probably be there in a little over an hour. Ominous clouds to our North made us hesitant to leave until we checked the radar. There were two storms to our North- both moving East one next to another. The one we could currently see had some high winds and rain, and possibly a little thunder and lightning- it was green, yellow and orange on my radar and sitting right over our destination. I could tell the following storm, which we couldn't see by eye yet, was much weaker. The gap between the storms was at least a couple of miles- enough distance to embolden us to "thread the needle"- a phrase we use when we try to time our departure and speed to squeeze through between storms and make it to land before the next storm hit.

We made great time, but the storm we were trying to beat made better. We were right beneath it when it blew through. The wind at the edges of storms are very strong- we had to paddle hard to break through the sudden head wind and into the wall of light rain. If we rested too long, or paddled too slowly, we ended up back in the invisible zone of wind.


Tony approaching the edge of the storm- the "high wind zone"


Drew pushing to calmer seas beyond the back edge of the storm.

We paused as the storm passed on a marshy island to check the radar and our location. Drew climbed up on a duck blind to look for the pavilion. The only rooftop we could see didn't look right. When I looked at it through the binoculars, it looked mostly like a rooftop but it was partially covered in green grasses. I wasn't sure I was actually seeing a rooftop. We wasted lots of time paddling around looking for the entrance to the cove.

We grew frustrated in our inability to spot the rooftop, and started looking at our other options. We had access to a house in Gloucester, directly west across the sound. We could be there in no time- definitely before sunset, but we felt like we were loosing mileage in the long run by paddling across the sound to get there because we would have to paddle all the way in tonight and then back out tomorrow.  We could keep looking for the pavilion, maybe we would find it soon. Or we could press on to Great Island Camp- a place we knew very well.

We decided to take a risk and press on to Great Island Camp- about 8 miles or so further North. We knew that this would mean we would be making landfall in the dark. Because we had noticed it the night before, we knew that the moon would rise early that night- very soon after nightfall- and that the moon would be full. Tony was sure we could find our way with just the moonlight, but I didn't want to be paddling around in the dark unable to find our landing spot. I wanted the park ranger to turn a few lights on for us. The problem was, the ranger station on the island was already closed. I did know that the family-run ferry service that runs from mainland to our destination would probably be have after-hours numbers for the park rangers out there. A couple of years ago that ferry service came to pick me up when I was sick on trek and let me stay in their house until Reggie came to get me, so I felt sure they would answer and help me out. I was right. The mother of the family answered the phone and remembered me. She still had my cell phone number saved in the phone! She called the park ranger and filled him in on our dilemma, gave him my number and called me back to let me know. People in Core Sound take good care of each other. Soon the ranger- Jesse, called me to let me know he would not only leave the lights on for us, but would stay awake and in contact until we landed. 

With the confidence that we would definitely find Great Island Camp, we set out again. The 18 knot tail wind had died with the storm. We enjoyed a relaxing sunset paddle in calm seas. 


The boys paddling behind me: Drew front left, Tony front right, Phil back left, Dave, in the very back, and Mike hiding somewhere.


Paddling at sunset

The fire of sunset dwindled into twilight, when everything turns into shades of purples and blues that get darker and darker until suddenly we looked around to realize it's deep dark night and we couldn't see each other. The clumps of marsh grass on the horizon that were visible at twilight became as black as the horizion they sat against, which was as black as the water we floated on. We pulled our emergency boxes from our cockpits to break out the glowsticks. My headlamp got strapped around my head, but I used it only when I sensed I was about to run into something. Bright lights ruin night vision and the need for us to be seen by motorboats was nonexistent.  I glanced at my deck compass once in a while to make sure my sense of direction was still on point, and we kept paddling. It seemed like just moments after we cracked our glowsticks the moon began to rise over the island. It rose right in front of us, and for the time that it hovered near the horizon I felt like that auspicious and glowing orange moon was my destination. I have launched many times in the darkness before dawn with glowsticks on my kayak pausing in the middle of the sound to paddle directly in the center of the blinding reflection of the sun as it rose. This was the first time I paddled through sunset and on into darkness and the first time I floated squarely in the shining reflection of a Harvest moon.  My attempts at capturing the moment with a camera were fruitless as I would have needed a tripod and a wide angle lens so you'll have to be happy with the description. (I looked it up, sunset was at 8:17 pm, twilight ended at 8:43, moonrise was at 8:44, so literally, right after the sun went down, the moon rose)

We soon discovered that we would have been very blind had the ranger not turned on the lights for us. The features of the islands- the silhouettes of buildings and squat trees are already difficult to identify in daylight, and are completely invisible in the dark. As we paddled and time wore on, the moon rose higher and the glowing windows shifted from being arranged in a cluster to a long string. In reality, the cabins are set in a row, long and narrow, along the length of the island. When you approach from the South West, they appear clumped together at first until you get close enough. Now which light was the ferry landing? We took a guess and started paddling toward one of the buildings only to hit marsh grass and still seem over a mile from the building. We turned away, back out toward the sound and tried to resume our North East bearing. Because we couldn't see ahead of us, we couldn't tell how far out we needed to go to get around the marsh grass. I started to worry that we would end up having to drag our boats through mud and muck to whatever building was closest. I called the ranger to see if he could drive his ATV over to the ferry landing and turn his lights on. He did us one better, he drove to the landing and put his flashing blue lights on. There was no mistaking where the ferry landing was. Much to our surprise, we saw his lights streaking through marsh grass. We were too far south by about 100 yards and there was a giant stand of marsh grass between us and him. We would have to paddle out and around it to get to the landing. Then Tony had an idea. The moon was full- causing a spring tide and very close to the earth- making the  spring tide much higher than normal. To our delight we could paddle through the  marsh grass directly to the blue lights and the landing. 

When we landed we were immediately assaulted by mosquitoes and no-see-ums. Phil was cussing and swatting as the rest of us were dancing and stomping to try to evade them. We all grabbed what we needed as fast as possible and ran. We ducked into the front porch of an empty cabin to escape the bugs. It was 9:30 and we still had to cook dinner. Sitting outside cooking in the swarm would be miserable, and we would probably eat a good number of bugs in the process, so we decided to covert cook dinner on the porch.  We listened to our radio while we cooked. The forecast had changed. There would be strong North East winds in the morning- 15 to 20 knots. Our late night would end in an early morning. We would have to hit the water early to make sure we had enough time to reach our destination before nightfall. After shoveling food into our growling stomachs we hastily set up our tents and fell asleep around midnight. 

We had a very eventful day- a headwind and the tide against us, an encouraging tailwind, exciting but harmless storms, confusion and frustration at our feeling lost, a breathtaking sunset and moon rise, a mad dash to cook dinner accompanied by the ominous forecast for the following day.
 
Lessons learned:
On the pavilion at Codd's Creek: I'm still convinced we weren't far enough north during our search and had we been at the right spot, we would have found it. After our trek we asked a park ranger and he told us that the pavilion was mostly destroyed in the last hurricane and is now very hard to spot from the sound side. If I had downloaded GoogleEarth onto my phone before our trek, I would have easily been able to tell if we were too far south of our destination or not and have a better idea where the entrance to the bay was because google earth puts a pinpoint on the map at your current location. I now have google earth installed on my phone which will probably come in handy some day. 
On paddling into nightfall: Paddling at sunset is pretty gorgeous, as one would expect it to be. Making the decision to paddle into the darkness can be scary- but we made it because we knew the area well, there were no storms on the horizon and we had the park ranger to light our way. Without these assurances we would not have taken the risk. It's easy to start to panic when you think you're paddling to your destination and all of a sudden you run into land and you aren't where you thought you were. I felt a bit of panic myself when we realized we were unable tell the buildings apart by their lit windows. Paddling into the rising harvest moon was the highlight of our trip and really magical. I think it would be a really awesome experience to re-create for adults on treks in the future. 

A deck bag is crucial for long days on the water. It provides quick and easy access to things like phones, sunscreen, hats, snacks and Gatorade pouches.
I've used a few different deck bags over the years so my requirements evolved to be very specific.

What to look for in a good deck bag for sea kayaking:

• Made from durable waterproof material
• Rigid structure to make it easy for me to dig around in it single handed
• Fast and easy to open- I don't want a deck bag with a roll top closure that takes forever to open and close
• Fast to take on and off my boat
• Low profile to reduce wind resistance
• Small enough to safely put in my lap under my spray-skirt in high winds without hindering my ability to wet exit
• Splash proof
• Dlastic d-rings to attach a strap so I can easily carry the bag on my shoulder. When I get to Ocracoke I use my deck bag like a purse- which gets me lots of strange looks.

So far my all-time favorite deck bag is the Baja Deck Bag from SealLine.

• Perfect Size- It is big enough to hold what I need it to, but not so big that wind resistance is a problem. It is small enough to keep in my lap under my spray skirt in extremely high winds. It has a stiff plastic insert that keeps the upper side of the bag in a curve shape which keeps the bag from collapsing and makes it easy to find your stuff. 
• Zippered Access- There is a zipper to get into the main part of the bag- which in the above photo is covered by a rubber flap to make the zipper more water resistant. There is an outer mesh pouch that I use to keep my chapstick and other random bits in. 

• Straps to Rigging- The bag itself attaches to the deck rigging with two tough strips of rubber lined with velcro with two plastic buckles at the end. Un-clip the buckles, pull apart the velcro, and slide the straps under your deck rigging then clip to secure. I find it easy and quick to put on and take off this deck bag. I have used other bags that attach in different ways and this method is my favorite. 
• Bungee- I use the bungee on top to hold my map and hat sometimes. The clips on the bungee are made to be a fast and easy paddle holder. I've only used them to hold my paddle a couple of times- it worked but I didn't feel like it was that secure. 
• Carry Strap- The removable strap is the perfect length to throw over my shoulder- making it easy to carry my bag to my tent or around Ocracoke as a handbag.

The fish market- on a not-so-busy day

Wander into the mina (port or harbor) in Dibba any afternoon except Friday and your nose will find the fish market for you. The buzz of activity is hidden from the road by big refrigerated trucks waiting to be filled with fish. Weaving through and often squeezing between the trucks you'll come upon an open area with orange tarps laid out to protect freshly caught fish from pavement. There is never enough tarp space, so many fisherman display their catch on their boats.  There are no size limits, catch limits or restricted species here- so you'll see a huge variety of marine life at the fish market. Large sharks are pretty common- along with parrot fish, cuttlefish, squid, black tuna, grouper, red snapper, swordfish and a bunch of others that I don't recognize.

An enormous hammerhead shark. We guessed it was 14 feet long. The shark next to it was a decent size shark at around 8 feet

It's easy to be intimidated here, especially for Westerners. Everyone is shouting in Arabic, people are walking quickly from seller to seller, fish are being packed into baskets layered with ice and heaved into trucks. There is constant movement and constant noise. Browsing the catch on the tarp means gingerly stepping between carcasses on slippery, blood and water covered tarps. Push your way through crowds to get a look at the catch on the boats. If you can't identify fish species, and more importantly don't know which ones are tasty, don't go without someone who does. The locals don't know the western fish names. It is typically warm and sunny at the fish market- the smell of sweat mingles in the air with the fish smell- and there's fish grime and guts all over the ground. Stray cats hang around trying to steal small fish when no one is looking.  Don't wear nice shoes and expect to leave feeling grimy.

Kent and the snapper

The first time we went, I was determined to buy a fish- we were planning a cookout that night. I found a nice big red snapper I wanted. I just stood there pointing downward and asking every man that passed "how much." Eventually my stubbornness paid off because someone who spoke a little English appeared to bargain with me. He was asking 250 dirhams- around $75- way, way out of our budget. Haggling is customary and expected here. A decent price is usually half of the amount they start at. I wanted to pay 140 dirhams- around $38 for the fish, but I couldn't get him below 180.  My companions and I gave up and walked away. We were checking out some black tuna on one of the boats when someone tapped Kent on the shoulder.
     "It's okay 140," the man says, wobbling his head to the side and waving his hand with a single flick of his wrist.  We headed back over to the snapper.
  After collecting our fish we head to this building where we can pay $3 to have our fish cleaned. The building feels vastly empty, clean and quiet compared to the fish market.

The guys who clean the fish don't speak English, so I motion as if I am holding a knife and cutting a fillet off the fish and the guy gets the idea.

A smaller snapper -photo credit Jessa Hobson

He scrapes the scales off with a short board with nails sticking out of it before pulling the guts out. Tony and Kent left me to supervise the cleaning process while they went back to buy a tuna. The fish cleaner slid his knife into the fish flesh by the gills to slice the fillet off. The fillet was nearly three inches thick and at least a foot long. I tried desperately to call Tony to tell him not to buy a tuna. Oman mobile cell phone signal isn't the most reliable. Not knowing if he could hear me or not, I tried to tell them that the snapper fillets were huge and not to buy a tuna. Much to my amazement Tony and Kent returned without a tuna. Apparently the only word Tony could make out was "huge" so they assumed I was trying to tell them that the fillets were enough to feed everyone.
This first successful trip to the fish market let to many more. We learned to walk away from a fish we really wanted only to be tapped on the shoulder as we stood browsing by the competitor's boat. We also learned just how much we could get away with paying for these fish. I got the snapper pictured below for 50 dirhams - just over $10. We originally agreed on 40 dirhams but when I pulled out a 50 and expecting to get change, the price jumped to 50 dirhams. Next time we'll bring exact change.

Curtis and Kent's Perfectly Easy Red Snapper

On a day off in February, we decided to see the souqs of Sharjah. In UAE and Oman, souqs are shops that sell traditional and modern items. The souqs are often organized by type- textiles, produce, spices, etc. Haggling is expected and respectful. Only fools (and tourists) pay full price.

During our drive, we saw a man riding a camel across a busy highway. I’m sure drivers around us were annoyed as we slowed to take photos.


Sharjah is an extremely confusing city to get around. The signs tell you what neighborhood a street heads toward instead of what major highway or direction they go- this is really frustrating for anyone who doesn’t have the layout of Sharjah neighborhoods memorized. Luckily we had a Time Out Dubai book with a basic map of Sharjah- enough to get us to the right neighborhood. We arrived at mid-day- not the best time for shopping because many shops are closed- but a great time to find free parking. We parked in a free spot right next to the Central Souq where Jessa was excited to take her shoes off in real grass.

The Central Souq

The central souq is two large, two story buildings, connected by hallways that pass over a road. The second floor is full of more traditional wares- jewelry, silver, old cultural relics, pashmina shawls, and carpets. Most of the shops on the bottom floor sell modern clothes, shoes, and jewelry. The more traditional souqs are captivating- each in their own way.
Some shops are a feast for the eyes- with glowing glass lamps in hundreds of colors.
This souq is packed to the brim with housewares, illuminated by the lamps and lanterns within. We all love to daydream about owning one of the big chandeliers.

Souqs with ancient artifacts transport you to other places and times - times of adventure and intrigue- when the far reaches of the world were still mysterious and the wonders of the world not yet understood. Some of the items here are thousands of years old- or so the shop keeper claims. In this case are coins from 195 BC, ancient Egyptian gold jewelry and Arabian knives. I held a pair of gold and jade earrings supposedly from Ancient Egypt. I wonder if looters stole them from a tomb furnished for the inhabitant’s afterlife.

A display case filled with old knives, coins and jewelry.

Old belt buckles

A beautiful revolver covered in Arabic script. I think this would have been my gun if I was a pirate.

And one of these my sword...

Afghani jewelry on display

One souq we really enjoyed was one full of more modern exotic items. The wares here were just as exotic and traditional, but not ancient and therefore less expensive. Tony found Tibetan prayer bowls he liked. I found brass spyglasses, ship’s helms, heirloom brass compasses and this throttle for a steam boat- just like the throttle on first ferries that ran to Ocracoke from the mainland. It would be awesome to have a throttle like this one at Pamlico Sea Base, or even one of the ships' helms so I asked for prices.


The shop keeper was asking 25,000 dirhams - around $6,800, for the throttle. The helms (ship’s wheel) were going for 600 to 900 dirhams. I could probably talk him down to 400 ($108) or so, but getting it home would be a challenge.
Coffee pots, a diving suit helmet, statues from the far East and traditional hookahs.

Enchanted by the relics within, we left the central souq scheming buy things when we returned.
Hungry, we wandered the streets until we found a Lebanese restaurant where you eat in the traditional way- seated on a carpet floor sharing a communal meal. We bought a variety of dishes and shared.


We hit the streets again to find Old Sharjah- where remnants of the old city remain. The buildings here are low and made from the resources available to those early inhabitants. We walked the narrow passageways and wondered at the construction of the buildings.
Tony and me walking down a lane

Jessa

Old and New Sharjah


A beautiful doorway

The buildings were constructed by stacking chunks of coral like bricks

There are souqs in Old Sharjah- but unfortunately they are only open in the mornings so we missed out on this trip. We looked into the windows of the souqs to see a trove of awesomely cool stuff -like carved ibex horns, giant platters carved with Arabic script, leopard skins and traditional furniture- so we’re planning to go back sometime to check them out.
Our last stop was the animal souq. We parked nearby and followed our noses to the shops. The smell of livestock and hay is detectable from several blocks away and is very conspicuous in the middle of a big developed city.


The sellers were excited to see westerners in their market and were eager to let Jessa and me hold baby goats and lambs.



One local guy bought a sheep. We were shocked and amused when he pulled his car up and the sheep was loaded into the trunk.


Deer were for sale too, although I can’t imagine what purpose they serve.


We strolled by the stalls selling cattle and horses, and then noticed a small goat was out of it’s pen. Jessa and I were inside the stall with the loose goat, Tony and Stephen were outside the stalls walking in the dirt driving lane. We tried to get the attention of the shopkeepers to alert them to the goat. They were preoccupied, and we quickly learned why. As we tried to get their attention, two men came bolting out of the neighboring stall, running full speed and looking over their shoulders. A bull had gotten loose, and he was angry. He chased the men, swinging his horns to and fro at them. One man made a futile attempt to stop it by stepping on the lead rope that dragged behind it. Tony jumped behind a tall metal gate and Stephen behind a car. I watched the bull exit the neighboring stall. I was in the neighboring stall, surrounded by walls and filled with pens of sheep. With nowhere to go, I hoped the bull wouldn’t turn and stood still to not attract attention. My efforts were not rewarded, he turned and ran into my stall. I knew he wouldn’t bother trying to knock a fence down, so I jumped in with the sheep and stood still. What I didn’t know was that Jessa was also in the same stall with me, standing behind me. She didn’t notice his direction change until he was running right toward her. As Tony and Stephen looked on, she frantically looked around for somewhere to go. Seeing me standing with the sheep, she leapt like a deer over the fence and quickly turned back toward the bull, shielding herself with her arms, holding the fence and nearly knocking me over in the process. The bull stayed his course and ran right to the back of the stall down a narrow lane. Unable to turn and unwilling to walk backward, he was stuck. The shopkeepers, Tony and Stephen came out from behind their hiding places and stood at the sheep pen. The Pakistani and Bengali keepers were bent over with laughter. Once they had contained themselves, Tony asked them how much for the two American sheep which set them off laughing again. Jessa and I climbed out of the sheep pen and we headed to the indoor animal souq where all the pets are sold.

We were hit by a wall of stench as we stepped inside. Each vendor has a variety of pets- you’ll often find cats, dogs, fish, parrots, rabbits and mice all in one shop. A few years ago you could find really exotic pets like tigers and leopards here but laws have changed in the past few years and you’ll rarely find such animals in plain sight. The shop keepers here are very willing to put birds on your shoulders and puppies in your arms. Tony and Jessa made friends with a parrot.



Falcons are one of the best selling birds here because of the long standing hunting tradition. Many Emirati men own falcons and train them to hunt. Unlike in the States, here you don’t need to be a licensed falconer to own one.


Now that we knew had the Sharjah souqs figured out, we vowed to bring the rest of the gang to check them out one day.

A few weeks ago, I tagged along with Jessa and Ram on the Aqabat village trek. Aqabat village is an extremely remote village high in the Hajar mountains of the Musandam peninsula of Oman. Just getting to the trail head requires a 45 minute 4x4 ride through the steep rocky gorge of Wadi Khabb A’ Shamsi to the top of the wadi where the drainage begins. Then trek for an hour and a half through the mountains to reach the village.

I love this trek because of the diverse experiences it offers. Most of the trail is surrounded by breathtaking views of the high mountains. The ecosystem of the high mountains is very different from the lower elevations- there is more vegetation and because of the surrounding wilderness the wildlife is more abundant. My other favorite thing about this trek is the cultural aspect - seeing an old village still inhabited- the combination of the old ways and new technologies used in tandem. Relics of the old ways still sitting as if they were used yesterday.