The water, I'd guess, was low to mid 60s. I was imagining capsizing as zephyrs filled in to a few meager gusts.

“Could these kayakers roll up?” I asked, half rhetorically.

“Not many.” We were looking at mostly professional people and their kids, a microcosm of kayak use. “At least their boats are light. Most people can't roll a loaded kayak up more than a few times in conditions which capsized them in the first place---even in warm water.”

“I'm sure you're right.”

“Think of the people I've taught to paddle in the last 20 years, classes to guides, clients, symposia. Most people should be in wider boats, especially in cooler water.”

Puffin heeled from a light push of air. I was staring through mist at the upper rigging of the full-rigged ship, Joseph Conrad, thinking of Lingard's brig and Indonesian warmth.

“Most capsizes are wet exits,” he continued. “People need to know, after a wet exit it's more than just getting back in.”

Howard meant “self-rescue.” Being prepared for a capsize and expecting it.

“You need to practice,” he said. “Do you want to struggle on a rolling log, or crawl onto a prepared platform?”

So, you might ask, would I have been ready for a capsize then? No, because I was risking a camera. But, yes, in spite of not wearing a dry or wet suit. Puffin is a familiar, wide boat, although I've not capsized her with this rig. She had all her bailing gear, and her full flotation of six airbags. I wore a PFD with a whistle, and many people capable of assisting were close.

Later in August, a college friend told of paddling with his cousin across a two mile wide Minnesota lake. My friend was in his cousin's year old kayak, 12'4” long, 27½” beam; no rudder. Cousin was in his new 13'9” inch by 20½” kayak with a rudder. Both wore PFDs.

Half way across, it blew strong from behind. A quarter mile to go--Cousin capsized. The boat blew away. He swam and waded ashore with his paddle. My college chum was ahead, although he'd paddled less than a half dozen times ever. He concentrated on steering the rudderless boat, and didn't know his cousin had fallen out.

Don has delicately suggested to his 40 year old sister-in-law, she'd probably be happier in a wider boat. Meade mentioned to his neighbors, until they've practiced reentries, they might not want to go out farther than the second sandbar. My buddy's cousin told me, “If there's any question about wind or waves, I take the wider boat.”

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