Wow, the whole budgeting post really took it out of me, so today “Ask Amy” isn’t answering squat. I can’t always do your bidding!

Actually, I had this post started and figured I should ready it for posting, even if it’s not of pressing concern to our readers. In a previous edition, I talked about bikes, and I wanted to cover another piece of bulky equipment many people debate, namely kayaks. Should a new-to-be-cruiser haul these along?

I'm going to tip my hand and say that I am probably among the most avid power-users of a kayak. My opinion may be biased, but here's my take on why I’m out paddling by sailboats where kayaks are still strapped to the lifelines from the Gulf Stream crossing.

Kayaking is Awesome (to me)

I kayak like many people hike or long-distance run. I ruminate and plan writing projects and look around and find I’ve spent three hours paddling. I don’t count this as a real workout, but it’s not nose-in-my-book time so it’s something.
This morning, for example, was flat calm. The water is where you want to be on a day like this. Beaches and the bush are full of no-see-ums and mosquitoes, but on the water, the paddling is effortless and bug-free, and the visibility is amazing. I paddled from the "Litter Box" out toward the eastern cut to see the sailboats departing. (As usual, there wasn't a breath of wind, so the sailboats were setting sail.) I then headed to the marked reefs, where I drifted over staghorn and fan coral and watched French grunts, parrotfish, margate, and other sea life. With my cheap MP3 player (cheap so I don't cry if it falls in) and a travel mug of coffee, it was a relaxing way to spend the morning and I covered many miles.
Floating on top of the reefs is, of course, no substitute for diving, but it is a nice complement. Over the years, I've watched turtles, huge spotted rays, dolphin, and all kinds of fish and coral this way. In Oriental, I discovered the habits of some river otters I’d visit daily, and one came up close enough to touch, slurped down the fish he'd caught as if showing off, and dove under me. Awesome.
If this doesn’t sound good to you—and it certainly doesn’t to Bozo—you may not want a kayak.

But They Are Uber-Useful, Too!

For a cruiser, kayaking is (or can be) more than a lazy woman’s sport. Consider that my kayak serves quadruple duty as:

· Second "car." If Thomas is going to play 2s volleyball, he can go ahead and I can hang on the boat and do something other than watch the same guys spike at the other guys’ heads for four hours. Then I can kayak in later to join him for 3s and 4s ball, or just the post-game drinks.

· Gym bag. Both Dream Catcher kayaks have inside storage compartments. I keep my yoga mat and strap, running shoes and socks, etc., in mine. I jump in the boat first thing in the morning and find beaches to jog, decks for yoga, etc., and I have everything handy for whatever I feel like doing.

· Rescue vehicle. Embarrassing but true. When the dinghy painter came loose in Vero Beach, I found the escapee at 2 AM in the mangroves and towed her in (didn't want the engine to wake the neighbors). On another occasion, Bozo was in the skiff with parts for our 15 hp and 3.3 hp engines in hand when the skiff’s 30 hp died—leaving us without a single working motor. I paddled out to help him row back in.

· Marital aide. Not that kind! I’m talking about murder prevention. In the early cruising days, when Bozo would tick me off—a shocker, I know, sister-in-law-the-older-one—I’d head out to work off my mad, only to find that this requires some very long, very hard paddling. To get home, I then had to do some equally long, hard paddling. By the time I reached, I would be so exhausted and happy to see Dream Catcher, I’d hug her and then Bozo. Problem solved.

All the Kayaks I Have Loved Before

My equipment has a lot to do with why I am so gung-ho. Most of the kayaks I see languishing on deck are short, fat jobbies, which don’t track well and require real effort to paddle. Few people are going the distance in these things.

I say this from experience. When we started out, I had an inflatable orange kayak, and it had many of the negatives I mentioned about the bikes. I had to drag it out and pump it up. Since I hated to leave it in the tropical sun, I’d deflate it after use and (try!) to pack it back in its little bag. The boat also wiggled side to side with each stroke, and I was always nervous it would puncture. Even though I wore a life vest, I wasn't too adventurous and was careful taking it ashore, lest it get pierced by the evil razor rocks that pepper the Bahamas.

Despite her shortcomings, I really loved the Orange Weenie but felt she was holding me back. After a year, I invested in a hard, narrow 12.5-footer from Hobie, and my true kayaking obsession began. It’s a wonderful boat—the convenience of a sit-on-top in a kayak that actually performs. Later, a used 17-foot sit-in boat become available and I passed Little Red to Thomas in favor of Big Blue. Although I feel like a traitor, one ride in Big Blue and I can’t go back.

Based on this history, as well as some rides in two kayaks my dad keeps in Oriental, here’s what I recommend for buying one you’ll actually use:

· Get the longest, narrowest kayak your boat and body can handle. They track better, paddle easier, and make it more enjoyable to go distances. They will also widen the spectrum of weather in which you'll be happy using them. I'm fine kayaking Big Blue to the beach for yoga in 30+ knots. You can probably find a nice, used 12, 15, or even 17-footer on Craig's List for less than you’d pay for the short, dumpy one at West Marine. Of course, Bozo feels squished in Big Blue and doesn’t like anything too tippy, so there are limits to how narrow a boat you may enjoy. Where/how you’ll carry it aboard may also affect how long a kayak you can deal with.

· The right sit-on-top is fine. Bozo prefers not sitting in the boat. Little Red is a good compromise. She’s easier to get in (on) and less confining. But she still performs well.

· Avoid the gimmicks. I’ve played with but am not a fan of the peddle kayaks. I often find myself coming up on shallow spots or rocks while looking into the sun and only at the last minute jab my paddle in to turn. I know I would have destroyed peddles by now. It's also one more thing to deal with when beaching.

· Keep it simple. My dad bought some with lots of extras (a.k.a. leak points), like fishing rod holders, and he’s had trouble with them filling with water. Much as I crave a rudder for Big Blue, it would be vulnerability in a boat I routinely abuse. A basic torpedo with a seat is best.

· Get in-boat storage compartments. A “trunk” is great and expands the usefulness. I actually haul groceries in my kayak from time to time. If in-boat storage isn’t possible, a dry bag strapped on top is an ok but inferior substitute.

· No assembly required. As mentioned before, having to inflate/deflate is a barrier. Similarly, skin-on-frame boats, which were once my dream for stow-ability, tend to languish. Our friends invested $4K+ in two Featherlites yet never use them because they’re a pain to put together but can’t be left on deck without the skins deteriorating.

· No tandem. Having a boat that you can only use when your cruising buddy also wants to use it seems crazy to me. Unless you’re one of those Borg couples who dress alike, get a kayak for both of you and then you can go solo or together.

My last advice on this topic is to make sure it’s as easy as possible to get in and go. When the weather is less than gale force, I keep my kayak tied off the back of Dream Catcher; in gales, I set her on deck. Bozo sewed Sunbrella covers for both our boats, and these have greatly extended their lifespans, but I only put on the cover and strap Big Blue outboard when we’re moving or when I’ll be unable to use her for a while.

The Verdict

I can’t be as prescriptive about kayaks as I have been on other topics. Notwithstanding my own enthusiasm, I know others get the same relaxation benefits from hiking trails, jogging beaches, or beachcombing—pastimes that will not clutter your deck with a 17-foot monster that is, I admit, always in the way.

If you have athletic skill, actual watersports like kitesurfing, windsurfing, or plain old surfing may suit you better. And “real athletes” pass through here all the time kicking the crap out of sandbags hung from their rigging, pole-dancing on their roller furlers, and training for Iron Woman competitions. Some of these girls also kayak, I guess because they are powered by Duracell.

You might, however, become a frequent and evangelical kayaker if you’re “someone like me.” I spent much of my childhood/early adulthood wandering around or running in the woods. To me, the bush doesn’t measure up to towering oaks and pines, so I am not especially ardent about the island trails. For the most part, I’ve substituted kayaking—water is always available even when trails aren’t, bugs and poisonwood rarely ruin the mood, and there are still plenty of sights to see.

Probably the most important factor, my kayak serves as a pressure-release valve on the interdependence of boat living. Generally I love enforced togetherness with Bozo, but it’s also liberating to just go—to shore, to town, for a jog, whatever—without putting dibs on the dinghy or arranging drop-off and pick-up (I am not good with time). And honestly, I will always feel that outboards can break in new and interesting ways that outstrip my knowledge of them. But my kayak, uh-uh. It’s one of the few pieces of gear on Dream Catcher that Amy knows best. That’s rare and therefore valuable.

If this sounds anything like you (and I may be talking mostly to the women out there), get a decent kayak before you come out. Then all that’s left is figuring out where the heck to put it.

P.S. - (Editor) I know the picture isn't of Amy and her kayak, but it's the best I could do.....