KAYAK-CAM CRUISE

Some things just have be done! I said I would do it, and besides, I really wanted to. So when a free late afternoon with a high tide came along, that was it: time to haul the Folbot down to Still Pond Creek and take the PowerBook 540c for a ride!

The idea was to take along my Connectix Color QuickCam, hook it up to the PowerBook, and digitally document being out on the water with all this gear. Simple enough, really. I had already done the woods trip, so going out to sea was just a matter of logistics and keeping dry.

And then there was the matter of the boat. . .

You see, I hadn't taken it out all summer. It was still upside down on an ancient homemade trailer, slumbering under an assortment of cheap blue plastic tarps and old shower curtains. And why exactly is that, with navigable water only a mile or two away in several directions? Well, it's the weather! Think Houston or Calcutta and you're almost there. . .on most summer days in this part of the world, just moving around outside at all is dangerous, and hooking up the trailer is enough to soak your clothes and make you unbearably hot and miserable. Picture this: you're minutes away from a medical emergency, sweat stinging your eyes as you stagger into the boat and cast off onto a solar griddle! A broad, flat, sun-reflecting body of water that might feel cool if you were in it, but you're not! Where you are is stuck on the damned boat, baking in the sun like a dying fool.

This day was different, however: mostly cloudy, not too humid, low 80's. Better jump on it!

I went outside to flip the Folbot right-side up and get ready to go. Grabbing a flap of blue plastic, I gave a big yank, uncovering the boat and and a very big wasp's nest! It's a good thing I didn't have the PowerBook in hand, 'cause I would have flung it away like a Frisbee! Years of country living had taught me to drop everything and run like bloody hell for a hundred yards, then drop to the ground and scan the skies for the little devils. . .

Apparently I was safe (for the moment). At this point I would ordinarily say "screw this!", but now I was on a mission! I crept up close with a garden hose, blasted the nest, then dropped the nozzle and ran like bloody hell all over again -- they were onto me! This skirmishing went on for an hour or so, until I could creep back to grab the tongue of the trailer and move it some distance away. . .the wasps were still trying to kill everything in sight, but they couldn't see me. Hah! I got everything hitched up, loaded the equipment and a few essential supplies, and started on down the road to the landing.

Most of you will look at these pictures and not see a "creek," but that's what such a body of water is called in this region of tidal bays and inlets. In Texas or Kansas, for example, this would be a damn ocean, but here it's a "creek:" a wide, shallow branch of the Chesapeake Bay that slops back and forth with the tides, with an actual freshwater creek somewhere at its farthest end. If you went all the way back upstream through the marsh and into the woods, you might eventually find a small trickle of clear water running over a clean, sandy bottom. Agricultural fertilizers, manure, and septic tank seepage from thousands of waterfront homes have of course turned the creeks and bay an opaque green that silly urbanites and politicians think is normal. After all, from a distance it looks almost blue when it reflects the sky. Pretty darned scenic, too.

So it was into this scene of promise and pain I easily launched the Folbot. The craft is best described as an open-cockpit, two person kayak, 14 feet long, with a wooden frame and covered with heavy vinyl-backed canvas. I built it myself a long time ago from a kit. It even has removable leeboards and a lateen sail rig, which pushes it along at a nice clip in a strong wind. But not today -- and definitely not on my first voyage with a computer in my lap!

The "landing," actually just a scrap of beach by the side of the road, is only two or three miles away. After sliding the boat off the back of the trailer into the calm, murky water, I carefully parked the truck so a passing deputy wouldn't be able to read the expired landing permit and walked back -- but what was that godawful smell? A dead cow in the marsh?? No, just the usual debris from "sport" crabbers, a small heap of broken crab bodies giving off their unique aroma in the afternoon sun (which had decided to come out after all). Several of them were quite large. It looked for all the world like someone had caught them, didn't know what to do with them, and simply left them there. But what's a public landing without rotting marine carcasses, after all?

The first quarter-mile was uneventful. I scanned the forward half of the boat as I paddled, looking for stowaways. You see, when I went out last year after a similar long stretch, I found myself sharing the cockpit with a mouse! He (?) never bothered me, just looked around perplexedly and ran back into his nest of chewed-up lifejacket stuffing. I forgot all about him. (Hey, that's my lifejacket!) But this time it was just the Folbot, the PowerBook, and me. There was almost no wind. I laid the double paddle across the gunwales, unzipped the new black case, and took out the 'Book. The four-year-old Mac laptop with the its PowerPC upgrade and "gotcha" batteries was charged up and ready to go, though for how long I couldn't say. The passenger seat backrest made a nice little desk to set it on, so I did. I unpacked the QuickCam, plugged everything in, and hit the power key:

"Bonggg!!!"

Now this was cool: I was doing it, sitting in a kayak in the middle of Still Pond Creek with a computer! (But hey, shouldn't this thing be booting up by now?? What's going on??? Ohfergodssakes! Farr, you idiot! You goofball, you wretch!!)

You know what it was, don't you? The PowerBook had booted up, but I couldn't see anything! It wasn't hot, but I started to sweat. . .and trackpads don't like it when you're all wet. . .(goddammit, where's the bleeping cursor?? Aaaghhhh! You moron! You monkey-butt cretin! Why didn't you get rid of the dark blue desktop background before you left the house??)

With the greatest of effort and the help of a cloud that blocked out the sun, I found the cursor and double-clicked the QuickPICT icon to fire up the QuickCam. . .this was not going to be easy! And forget about focusing -- there was no way I would ever be able to see details like that. What the hell, I thought. I would shoot whatever I could while the batteries were still functioning and doctor the images later. I wanted to save JPEGs, but the screen was set to 256 colors, so I didn't know what I was looking at anyway! Would that big blue band still be in the picture when I copied it to the 8600? [Yes! -- JHF] Would I be able to paste and save the shots while flying blind?? And would someone please stop jabbing those hot needles into my bare ankles???

"Aaaghh!!!"

No needles, of course, just biting flies. . .I had been concentrating so hard, I hadn't noticed the evil bastards gnawing on my legs. Ouch! Itch!! Curse!!! Slap, swat, scratch! There was no wind, you understand, so the carnivorous arthropods could follow the scent of my panic all the way from the shore to my drifting workstation. But you know what?

I stuck it out! I took half the pictures you see on this page and tucked them away on the PowerBook's hard drive, then I put the 'Book to sleep, laid it and the QuickCam down in front of me, and paddled to the shore on the opposite side of the creek. It was shadier there, and I took several more shots. My itching, throbbing ankles were safe for now, too, as the flies were gagging and falling over the side. . .(Hah! Drink my blood, will you?)

I pushed off once again and paddled back out: the PowerBook was asleep, its batteries nearly dead. I could get maybe one more picture, but where? Aha! The dead crabs back at the landing! That would make a great shot -- the QuickCam takes excellent closeups -- so I headed off in that direction, happy and pleased that I would be able to show you a colorful busted blue crab with tire tracks and big green flies all over it! What a symbol, what a metaphor! It would be perfect!!

But alas: as the Folbot's bow scraped the sand and the crab gas washed over me again (nobody calls it that, but they should), I woke up the 'Book and grabbed the QuickCam -- but the juice was gone! Oh please no!! I heard a beep and the screen went black. . .curses!! (Don't worry: next time I'll take the Minolta along, too. But this was a day for the mighty PowerBook Kayak-Cam!)

Anyway, what I really need is a picture of me, sitting in the boat hunched over a computer in the middle of the creek. . .

Prob'ly make a few bucks with that one!

John H. Farr also edits the Apple Computer News for Applelinks.com), welcomes your comments. His own web site, the ZOO ZONE, is a beautifully-preserved example of Early Internet and soon to be a must-see historical site. . .if he doesn't update the danged thing!

TECHNICAL DETAILS: all images above were captured using a Connectix Color QuickCam connected to a PowerBook 540c with 32 MB of RAM and a 117 MHz PowerPC processor upgrade running OS 8.1 (rats! I won't be able to run 8.5!). Pictures massaged with wwwART 2.0, the best little $19.95 image editing program in the whole wide world!

Don't forget that the Farr SiteDiscussion Board is now open, so go public and live dangerously! "Tell the judge I said it was alllll right" -- B. Dylan, too many years ago.