Coming shortly.
I am making a stab at assembling a calendar of industry events likely to be of interest to technical professionals. Please bear with me as it will likely be sparse for starters as I familiarize myself with Google Calendar.
My intention is to accumulate events by various organizations in the greater Boston, central Massachusetts, and larger area. You should be able to cut and paste the link below:
View Engineering Events calendar
As well as view the Calendar right here.
Why hasn’t somebody done this sooner?
I’ve been writing about making the most of unemployment, turning the economic situation to your advantage, maybe even getting a job. All of which often means tackling something you wouldn’t have tried if you were working – like a winter weekend hiking in the mountains.
Sound insane? You’d be surprised. It’s inexpensive, good exercise, and good for your soul. Besides, most of those resumes aren’t getting read anyway, so get away from it all for a little while. What follows is an account of an adventure a friend talked me into this last winter in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. It was all of the above, and even gave me an idea for an optical design.
Everyone should spend a night at an Appalachian Mountain Club hut in winter. Yes, it’s rustic, that’s how you house 40 people deep in a pristine forest. Besides, the simplicity adds to the adventure, slowing time to a walking pace, reducing necessities to what fits on your back, and offering a new perspective on comfort. So while the rest of America turns up the thermostat, at Zealand Falls Hut sustainable cutting translates to 6 hours of wood heat a day – and sweeping snow out of the dining room. Light is similarly husbanded, provided courtesy of your caretaker packing in 100 pound gas cylinders.
Consider it a history lesson, a kind of alpine Sturbridge Village in which you get to live like your ancestors. Warmth is relative, achieved with proper dress, reinforced with mugs of hot, iron tasting water, and interspersed with shivering while changing cloths, getting in or out of bed, and visiting the outhouse. At 32 degrees, the dining room is warm. In the unheated bunk rooms nail heads and knots blossom with frost, the rough board walls glittering in the beam of a headlamp. But it really “isn’t so bad” as I somehow find myself observing in the toilets at 2 am and 14 below zero.
We wake the first morning to wind and snow, 4 inches so far and expected to continue all day. Departing for Mt. Zealand, Mt. Bond, and Bond Cliffs the temperature rises above freezing, but thankfully there is no change to rain. Around us glint snow flakes as big as sequins, showing off a crystal structure exactly like the paper cutouts made in grade school.
Reaching Zealand peak we calculate our rate of progress at one mile per hour, less than hoped. Ahead, the trail toward Bond is a foot and a half deep of unbroken snow. If we continue, we’ll be racing nightfall on the way back while retracing a path obscured by drifting. Besides, Ken, a veteran of our company has a sore knee. We reluctantly decide to turn back.
But first, as consolation, I indulge a favorite winter hiking pastime and snowshoe a hundred yards of the trail we aren’t taking, effortlessly bounding downhill, enjoying the sensation of fresh powder yielding and sliding underfoot. Uphill is a lot more work.
Returning to the hut mid afternoon, we have it to ourselves for a few hours. Ken asks, “You’re not disappointed are you?” and I am not. We chose carefully, and I believe wisely. “Winter is the best time to hike,” as he observed earlier, “but it’s dangerous.” I burn a little residual energy by hiking the hundred yards to fetch water. Hint: you have to pump fast. .
Next comes the golden rule of the huts, change all your cloths. Since the indoors is much like the outdoors (i.e. cold), treat it as you would any stop on the trail, only more so. You will get cold unless every piece of clothing is dry and you dress warmer than when you were hiking. Of course this requires you to bring two complete sets of cloths, from skivvies to top fleece. After changing, you hang what you wore hiking on the drying racks that lift to the ceiling on pulleys.
In the middle of my obligatory clothing change an older woman walks in wanting to know all about our trip to the Bonds – illustrating a couple more principles of hut life: One, the camaraderie, and two, the coed nature of the living quarters. Her group intends to hike to the bonds and is pleased to think we have broken trail for them. I finish dressing in the next room, and next day she and her retired friends do indeed reach the bonds.
Next morning at dawn I leave my warm sleeping bag and head to the toilets asking “Why am I subjecting myself to this torture?” You can’t even wash your hands, unless you count the waterless hand sanitizer, which I don’t. But stepping outside I glance toward the next peak, every branch luminous with frost, and my mood lifts.
After washing breakfast dishes, and hands, in water heated on the stove, I step onto the porch under a blue sky when I’m treated to another novel effect of sun and snow. Just yards away in the direction of the sun, from zenith to ground, the air shimmers in a dazzling column of light. Like dust motes visible only where the light catches them, a thick swarm of tiny ice crystals blaze. What’s most remarkable is their combined effect, like an array of mirrors focused on the observer, producing this blinding, gold fringed halo.
Intrigued, but eyes scorched, I return to packing for the 6 mile hike back to the car. That accomplished, and back in the embrace of conventional comforts, I’m in a kind of culture shock. Days spent in the cold, miles walked in the snow produce a mixture of feelings: accomplishment, respect, and yes dread. I turn up the heat and put on an extra fleece to drive away a chill. But we are already talking about next year, and our wives seem likely to join us.
For more information on the Appalachian Mountain Club huts – or membership – visit www.outdoors.org.
David Elliott, www.linkedin.com/in/dkelliott, 1stprinciples.wordpress.com
(A newbie’s month long pursuit of nautical nirvana)
In the latest example of AMC friends coaxing me into a novel adventure, last summer I took a trip down some mild whitewater on the Deerfield River in a borrowed kayak. And I have to say there is something wonderful about moving water, its active participation, the way it speaks, makes demands. From a leisurely paddle, the pulse rate kicks up a notch at the first note of an approaching rapid, the promise of hydro powered acceleration – sans throttle, sans gasoline and blessedly sans stink and racket. As for the streamlined plastic bottle I steered among the rocks, my inner 12 year old needed one of these personal go fast machines. The 51 year old rest of me called the whole thing a motivated workout.
And yet, I dreaded the process of actually buying a kayak. I would settle only for the real thing: rotary molded descendent of the aboriginal work boat, noble confluence of stone and information age technology, and not some degenerate byproduct of a booming leisure products industry. And booming it is. Everybody wants one, as I discovered with a kayak on the car roof, drawing strangers toward me in shopping center parking lots.
With hundreds of models to choose from, kayaks are on sale everywhere, generally costing in the high hundreds of dollars, though the most pool toy like models are a bit less at the big box stores. In sum, at a cost beyond my means, with a mind boggling array of models – including older styles in the used market and a multitude of tawdry knockoffs – it was a research project I didn’t cherish.
My one salvation however was that the kayak I’d just borrowed, an off brand available locally at a discount, already provided a good solution that any contending boat would have to better. That is, while the project looked arduous, I was assured of success. So I began.
Online I soaked up basic vocabulary, certain counterintuitive rules of boat design, and the oft repeated admonition “thou shalt paddle many boats before buying one.” I also learned the kayak I’d paddled was of the “recreational” variety, under which category falls most of what you’ll find on fresh water. They run shorter for greater maneuverability (this one was 13.5 feet), correspondingly wider (28”) to maintain buoyancy, and generally sport a large “convenient” cockpit. On the down side, this extra width makes it incapable of being righted by an occupant still seated in the cockpit, the maneuver called “rolling.” The sole course of action this leaves you, on finding yourself upside down, goes by the technical term a wet exit. This accomplished, rescue is the name given to climbing back aboard, which is a harder if less hurried procedure.
Next come touring kayaks, which are longer, narrower (24”), paddle easier, have tighter cockpits and multiple sealed cargo bins. They lend themselves better to paddling serious distances and camping.
Finally comes the granddaddy from which the others descend. Sea kayaks run long and narrow and incorporate various features like raised bows making them capable of surviving the ocean. (These are not to be confused with Ocean Kayak, which is just a brand of sit-on-tops). Sea kayaks are the truest descendents of the aboriginal design, and being the most all around capable, are the platform addressed by kayak books, instructors, and popular imagination.
But you won’t hear this summary from kayak salesmen. Even the best will begin by asking, “What kind of use will you make of it, on what sort of water?” – which initially struck me as absurd, as I intended to paddle everywhere. Didn’t everybody? Or worse, “How much kayaking experience do you have?” – which once put me in a boat I’d swear was made by Tupperware.
What I came slowly to appreciate though, was that the kayak industry sells a lot of boats to fishermen and hesitant weekenders who want a rock steady platform above all else. At kayak rentals on Cape Cod we encountered many such flat bottomed, very short boats (10’) with immense cockpits, targeted at the least common denominator consumer, known in those parts as tourists.
Besides, as all watercraft design represents a tradeoff of capabilities, it’s important to know what portion of your time you intend to spend on which sorts of water. Weigh your priorities: good tracking (going straight) versus easy turning, converting paddle strokes into distance (efficiency) versus stability, and water condition versatility also versus stability.
Stability in particular is a tradeoff involving ability to handle diverse water conditions and skill level required. On a mirror smooth pond, a barge flat bottom provides the greatest primary stability. But, to perform in rough conditions you need what’s called secondary stability, the ability to operate smoothly at an angle to the water surface, as when heeled over or encountering a wave broadside. Secondary stability is achieved by a somewhat V shaped or rounded bottom, with particular emphasis on rounding the chine – the transition between bottom and sides. Unfortunately, back on calm water, this same rough water capability makes for a boat that feels wobbly.
Efficiency also trades off against stability. The more perfectly round a hull, the easier it glides through the water, by virtue of having the least area in contact with it. Unfortunately, rounder also makes a boat less inclined to remain upright. To understand why, picture a maximally efficient kayak built round as a log. Then consider how this kayak’s dynamics resemble those of a log in a rolling contest.
Clearly the performance I sought in a kayak demanded some skill from its occupant – a not unfamiliar lesson. But think what skill and good design could accomplish together.
For instance, the correct way to sit in a kayak is with your knees held firmly against the hull, possible only in narrower boats with smaller cockpits. Grasping your kayak thus enables you to maneuver it by pivoting your hips, a skill important to becoming master of your vessel. Using this method, skilled operators even deliberately heel their boat for quick turns in a maneuver called edging – possible only in boats with good secondary stability.
Up to this point, my kayak buying research could be summarized as follows. I wanted to paddle every manner of fresh water including mild rapids, and also estuaries, meaning occasional surf, which by the way requires a length of about 13 feet. I wanted a classic form: narrow hull, small cockpit, and capable of handling rough water. Such a kayak would represent a blend of recreational and touring styles.
But taking the next step, matching these attributes to actual boats, proved daunting. Visiting showrooms, turning boats over, studying and comparing their shapes, I found variations I hadn’t accounted for. I could only speculate how this or that organic curve or concavity of bow affected performance. It would require a naval engineer, with topographical maps of each hull, to exhaustively analyze their capabilities – and that wasn’t going to happen. Besides, as experts had warned me, analysis gets you only so far. The real proof lay in the paddling.
So I fell back on a couple of flesh and blood local independent kayak retailers for guidance. For if I was qualified for anything by now, it was assessing kayak dealers. These guys had won me over by their exhaustive knowledge and honesty, speaking to the true merits and weaknesses of various boats – not reciting what they thought I wanted to hear. They’d invested considerable time and patience in educating me – even to the point in one case of talking me out of buying a boat that didn’t quite fit my needs.
Then one day I came by to rent a boat under consideration and was asking technical questions as usual when it hit me. My goal was a good boat, not a PhD in the entire kayak industry. If I wanted to make a choice anytime soon, I was going to have to put my confidence in somebody else’s expertise. Come to think of it, that’s exactly what I was already doing that very moment, so why not admit it to myself and close the deal? Sure, my impression of the boats he recommended were colored by his enthusiasm for them, my fondness for him, and the great stories he told – but cool headed reason maintained that stalling would profit me nothing. Here was my last, best, credible, accessible resource.
So after duly paddling everything he pointed at, I bought my Kestrel 12 HV by Current Design, in which name the 12 as usual stands for length in feet. The HV happens to designate a high volume version of this boat, recommended for paddlers over 170 pounds. Shortly afterward my wife Susan followed with a Manitou 13 by Necky, a wonderfully fast and straight running boat I would have bought myself except that whitewater requires quicker turns.
As for the rest of you, looking ahead, your best opportunities for kayak research are the demo days coming up in the spring, generally accompanied by sales of last year’s leftovers. Or if you can stand waiting, come labor day, retailers and rental shops sell off their used boats. Bottom line though, shop for the hull, not the price.
David Elliott
Here is some information in addition to what can be found in my article in the Worcester Chapter of the Appalachian Mountain Club newsletter Wachusett Views.
My favorite kayak vendors:
www.NewEnglandBackpackers.com in Worcester MA. Talk to Wayne, with the white beard, one of the friendly owners. Then again, with rental rates this reasonable ($30), taking your time in a purchase doesn’t hurt so much.
www.GreatCanadian.com in Sutton MA – but please don’t consult their website for kayaks. It is so grossly out of date they carry none of the models listed. No, they are not online savy, but they know paddling and kayaks.
BobsKayaks.net in Bondsville, MA discount seller of Clearwater Design, the off brand I mention in my article, which I paddled in my first time on the Deerfield.
Again, as I mention in my article, retailers put leftover models on sale come spring, so you might be interested in knowing that as EMS will no longer be handling Necky (there’s a story there), savings are likely on any Necky products remaining in their sales or rental inventory. Of course upon your inquiring, somebody will probably try to sell you a $1,200 Tsunami.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=npfwYuMDm9k - great kayak paddling instructional video demonstrated by Olympic kayak racer. There are many excellent how to kayak videos on YouTube.
http://www.canoekayak.com/features/techniques-tips/lowbracetechnique/index.html - magazine, article on bracing.
http://www.canoekayak.com/features/newbie-corner/kayakintro/index1.html - magazine, article on kayak design, search topic desired
www.paddlinginstructor.com - an unbiased blog
www.rapidmag.com - newly online, for crazy whitewater people, have no idea if it’s any good
www.bellcanoe.com - best dry bag I’ve seen, not cheap, but bought two for Christmas.
www.goose.com - kayak rental in Orleans, MA on Cape Cod that sells off Necky Manitou and Wilderness Systems Tsunami 14s around labor day. Beautiful estuary area to paddle also if you want to rent.
http://www.cdkayak.com/resources/kayak_design_basics.php - Current Design, kayak manufacturer, has a good, illustrated intro to kayaks in their catalog. They have a version online too but it is less complete, lacks pictures, and his hard to find, which is why I link you to part of it directly here.
www.neckykayaks.com – Necky, kayak manufacturer.
FYI, Johnson Outdoors Watercraft makes Necky, Old Town, and Ocean brands.
To update the discussion of Inbound Marketing University previously cited, note their archived webinars are now available as an mp4 video download – plus pdf of their slides. The webinars had been offered as a stream earlier, and though personally I ran into technical problems, hats off to them for offering the download as an alternative.
www.inboundmarketing.com/university/imu-kit-download
In other news, their “2nd semester” has begun, with additional content provided live
PR for Inbound Marketing
Professor: Todd Defren, SHIFT Communications
Twitter for Business
Professor: Laura Fitton, Pistachio Consulting, Twitter For Dummies
Date: Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Time: 1:00pm EDT
in Changeable Times
