Snowy Morning Crossing
Gail E. Ferris

	The forecast did not seen too particularly threatening as I 
weighted my options.  It was to be an overcast evening with temperatures 
in the twenties and snow starting in the early hours of the morning.   
The most critical part of the forecast for me a kayak commuter was the 
winds.  The winds were expected to be from the northeast at ten to 
twenty knots but to increase during the day to fifteen to twenty knots 
from the east, which implied that some higher gusts might be expected 
and that small craft warnings might be issued.
	My island destination had less than a mile fetch to the north and 
east whereas to the southwest the Long Island Sound fetch was twenty 
eight miles.  I knew that the waves would not be of threatening height 
nor would they truly represent the wind when it blew from the north and 
east directions.  This required a different criteria for judging how 
threatening conditions are for the kayaker.
	From past experience I accessed the strength of the wind as I 
carried my kayak to the water's edge facing the incoming wind but I 
prepared for the unexpected possibility of gusts by putting my spray 
skirt on, putting the rudder down and most importantly tieing the paddle 
to the polypropylene painter on the bow.  Loosing my paddle to the wind 
was the least desirable fate I wanted to experience, among other 
possibilities.
	As I disembarked from the protected shore I very seriously thought 
about whether I was capable of making this crossing.  I carefully felt 
and evaluated the strength of the wind as I passed into the open water 
from the protection of the pier.  I knew how easy it is to trick oneself 
into thinking that conditions are not as threatening as they actually 
are. How close the opposite shore seems until the moment suddenly 
arrives when the horrified paddler realizes all too late that things are 
out of control.  In a thick snow storm in the dark of predawn winter 
morning for the solitary paddler the most candid judgement is necessary.
	Paddling into the driving snow was difficult as the snow flew into 
my eyes when I looked across the bay at my destination.  My hat and swim 
hat had only a small visor and the snow plastered itself onto my face 
causing intense pain from its' coldness.  I wished I had worn my 
neoprene diving hood and a visored cap as a better defense against the 
driving snow.  I had to frequently look straight ahead to check my 
direction because of the offsetting currents in this area.  The wind was 
not much more that fifteen knots but the discomfort and visual problems 
caused by the driving snow were disconcerting. 
	As I made my way across the harbor conditions abated.  I was most 
happy that they were no worse than what I found.  I did not want to go 
for a swim in the snowstorm on Long Island Sound. 

2/28/90
Gail E. Ferris, 1 Bowhay Hill, Stony Creek, CT. 06405