Blue Skies Across North America

October-November 1997

This is an article from WaveLength Magazine, available in print in North America and globally on the web.

by Alan Wilson

An interview with Bill Hayward, who spent 15 months pedalling his kayak "Blue Skies" across 7000 miles of North America.

At the 1997 Ocean Kayak Festival we were graced by kayaks of all kinds, including plastic and fiberglass kayaks, skin baidarkas, hand made cedar strip kayaks, sailing kayaks and even pedal kayaks.

All of these craft are part of the self-propelled movement, offering an alternative to the Engine.

Inventor Greg Holloway was on hand to show off his unique pedal driven canoe and kayaks, and Bill Hayward made an appearance with Blue Skies, the pedal boat on which he spent 15 months touring North America.

Bill pedaled his boat from the Milk River in Alberta across the border to the Missouri River and from there down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico. Then east around the top of the Gulf to Florida, across the peninsula and up the east coast of the States to New York. From there, he traveled up the Hudson River and back into Canada, then east along the St. Lawrence, arriving eventually at Cape Breton, Nova Scotia where he ended his trip, after a journey of some 7000 miles.

I had a chance to talk with Bill recently and this is how our conversation went.

 

WL: What led you to undertake such an incredible journey?

When I moved to Mayne Island in BC I spent a lot of time listening to CBC radio and was fascinated by the tales of adventure I heard. I began to think of going on one myself.

While Blue Skies is much more than a kayak, it clearly shares the lineage we all know and love

I grew up in Nova Scotia and I thought it would be great to somehow take a water route to the east coast, maybe go through the Great Lakes.

Then I saw a map of North America in the Nation Geographic's Water issue with all the rivers highlighted. I suddenly realized I could actually go all the way from Alberta, down through the States to New Orleans and up the east coast to Nova Scotia.

It was a five second decision. Then I started reading a lot of adventure books, especially "Old Glory". Jonathan Raban's book of the Mississippi.

 

WL: Had you done much boating before this?

I had previously built an 18' sliding seat row boat, but I got tired of looking behind me. Then I met Greg Holloway of the Institute of Ocean Sciences whose pedal kayaks allow you to sit facing forward.

I thought of putting a pedal drive in my row boat, but then I realized this would wreck it for rowing. And I didn't want to go in an open boat.

So I connected with Paul Gartside, a naval architect in Sidney, BC who has an amazing boating background himself. He's spent a number of summers rowing the Yukon River, all the way to Barrow Alaska.

I had thought of using a drive like Greg Holloway's which fits vertically down a well, but I was discouraged by the US Corps of Engineers who warned me of shallow waters in the US rivers and said a fixed shaft would break.

Bob Simons, who is the center of the human powered group in BC suggested a gearbox with a driveshaft. And Paul came up with the idea of a universal joint half way down the shaft which would allow the propeller to be knocked up inside the boat, without damaging the shaft.

I built Blue Skies in the fall of 1995, in Paul's shop in Sidney with his help. The whole thing cost about $4000 and took about 500 hours of labour.

 

WL: Tell me more about the boat.

It's 20 feet long with a beam of 39 inches, a depth of two feet and a two and a half foot draft. The boat is made of 3/16" red cedar with epoxy and a couple of layers of 1 ounce fiberglass cloth on the exterior plus a single layer inside. I put a Bimini top on to keep off the sun and rain which folds down as a tent at night.

The gearbox is just like a bike's, with a 1/6 gear ratio, in the mid-range on a ten speed. I steer it with a handline. It weighs a total of 225 pounds. Then I added about 350 pounds of gear. This ballast was actually a good thing because the empty boat is quite tippy.

I cruise at about 4 knots, but in a pinch I can get a burst of 7 knots out of it.

 

WL: Can you sleep in the boat?

Yes. It's just like a quarter berth on a bigger boat, about six and a half feet long. The floorboards are about an inch off the floor, and with a piece of foam and sleeping bag, it's quite cozy. I even have lights in the cabin and a fan.

 

WL: How do you get power?

I've got a solar panel which gives me power to burn. And I cook on a Feather white gas stove, which I usually set up on deck, but I can cook inside if the weather is bad.

 

WL: When did you launch on the trip?

June 21st. Actually I was going to launch in April, but I kept postponing because of serious flooding. Unfortunately I didn't have much information on the Milk River and when I got there I discovered that there was barely enough water. The first day I ran out of water within five feet of the start. I had to drag the boat along and I really thought the adventure was over even before it began. But finally the water level picked up a bit and I was able to make my way toward the US border.

 

WL: What did they think of you at the border?

Well, that was actually the worst experience of the whole trip. They were armed to the teeth and told me I couldn't do it. Finally they gave me three feet of paper work which I had to fill out before they'd let me in.

That was the low point. I was surprised how well I was treated after that. I had listened to everyone's warnings, but the truth is I was received like an honored guest wherever I went. People were great, giving me things, offering me a tow whenever I needed to get my boat over dams, taking me out to dinner, helping me in all sorts of ways. Everywhere I went, people let me tie up for free and there was always a cold beer for me at the end of the day.

I figure I was taken out to dinner at least a hundred times in the course of the trip. And interviewed by local newspapers dozens of time.

I'd always regret leaving a place, saying goodbye to folks, but then within about 10 minutes of arriving in the next place I'd have a whole new group of friends. It was great.

If I didn't meet anyone right away, I'd just wander around town till I saw a boat or a kayak and then I'd know I'd find a friendly person.

 

WL: It must have been pretty easy pedaling with current on the rivers.

Yes, on the Missouri I was able to go at 8-10 knots. In fact, I made 40 miles my first half day. But it's a bit dangerous too, because the rushing water undermines trees, roots and all. These can roll around on you and drag you under. A number of kayakers have been lost this way.

While the upper part of the river is natural and fast flowing, passing through the badlands and cattle country, then I encountered areas that have been dammed creating lakes hundreds of miles long. Here there wasn't any current to speak of and often lots of wind, with 2-3 foot waves.

 

WL: How long did you pedal each day?

About 8-10 hours on average. I did a couple of 80 mile days, but mostly about 50-60 miles a day. On the Missouri I figure I averaged about 6 knots. On the Mississippi it was more like about 4 knots.

 

WL: Could you just drift with the current?

Actually no. For some reason the boat tended to turn and go backwards if I didn't pedal. And I had to keep alert because of all the commercial traffic running 24 hours a day. There's an unbelievable amount of traffic on the Mississippi, especially from St. Louis south. In fact there's a steady 2-3 foot chop from all the boats.

The barges can be 500-1000 feet long and only marginally in control. It's quite terrifying at times. They're pushed from behind by tugs and are too big to take the curves in the river, so they drift sideways to get around. One time I looked around just in time to see a big one headed my way and I pedaled like heck to get out of the way.

People warned me that you can get sucked under with the turbulence they create and I found out how powerful they can be one time when I was bathing in the river. I usually jumped into the river every day to cool off and wash, then rinsed off with my solar shower. I was just standing there up to my waist when a barge went by. It was so big it sucked all the water away from within 25 feet around me and left me standing there naked!

 

WL: So what was is like traveling through the southern States?

Further down, from St. Louis to Memphis it's less interesting because of the big levees on either side of the river to protect against floods. The towns are set back and you miss a lot.

I have to admit, it was a bit boring at times. Without my radio I'd have gone nuts. It was nice to have music playing in the background.

South of the Mason-Dixon line I started to notice I was the only white guy around. I guess that's because the streets were full of the poorer folks and they were generally black. Also, I noticed it was like the Civil War had never ended. Everyone was always talking about re-enacting the battles.

When I got to New Orleans, I spent three weeks repairing Blue Skies. I stripped off all the fiberglass and let the cedar dry out. Then I re-glassed it before heading into the Gulf of Mexico.

 

WL: What did you think of the Gulf?

It's beautiful. The sand is powder white from all the shells and there are strings of barrier islands 4-5 miles off that are mostly deserted. Here and there is the odd development, mostly gambling establishments or old shipyards.

But those powder sands also tell you that they have some mighty big storms in those parts. The month before I got to Fort Walton, the town was devastated by a hurricane. I saw boats up on shore, masts sticking up from the water, houses destroyed.

Another problem in the upper Gulf is that the winds from the north can blow the water right away from the shore, out of the shallows, and you can find yourself marooned. And then the water can come crashing back. So it's pretty dangerous. Quite a number of people warned me not to try it.

There are also big sportsfishing boats which roar around leaving huge wakes and I was always afraid of being capsized.

Then there's alligators. I remember being in Apalachicola at Christmas time. I'd just come back to my boat after a Christmas party and bedded down. Next thing I knew, right beside my head there was a horrifying scratching on my hull and I could feel the boat being pushed against the dock. I just froze. Then I heard a deep guttural croaking which apparently they make. They weigh 600 pounds and this one could have destroyed Blue Skies with a flick of its tail.

I also saw lots of manatees, which looked like hippos with fins. At one place when I was passing through a lock I saw one come hurtling through with the rushing water when the gate was opened. I called up to warn the gatekeeper who shrugged and told me that the young ones do it all the time as a sort of game.

 

WL: Did you see many kayaks on your trip?

Surprisingly few. Up until Florida I saw only one! And maybe only a dozen through the whole time I was in the States. Which is strange, because Florida is an incredible place to kayak. There are the barrier islands everywhere and hardly anyone on them. Captiva on the west side of the Florida coast is gorgeous.

I was looking forward to Key West, which I assumed would be amazing, but I actually didn't get down that far. Instead I pedaled across Florida, into Lake Okeechobee and then down through a canal system to Stuart on the east coast. From there I took the Intercoastal Waterway north.

The Intercoastal is a system of natural and dredged waterways created by the off-lying sandy islands, and it's really popular with boaters. Lots of enormous boats travel it. I remember a 130 foot boat passing me. Its fenders were bigger than Blue Skies!

The Intercoastal more or less ends at Norfolk, Virginia where Chesapeake Bay starts. The Chesapeake is one of the most beautiful areas I passed through, but I also found it to be one of the most dangerous. By 10 am everyday there were 4-6 foot swells.

From the Chesapeake I pedaled down into Delaware Bay to the Atlantic coast again, out around Cape May and up to New York when I did all the usual touristy things. From New York, I pedaled up Long Island Sound to Mystic, Connecticut, which is a boaters' mecca, and attended the Small Wooden Boat Festival where I got to tell my story about 10,000 times. Then up to Newport, Rhode Island, which is the sailing capital of North America. At that point, I couldn't see myself going out around Cape Cod and I had heard a lot about the Hudson River so I had Blue Skies trucked to the Hudson.

It was really beautiful traveling up the River past all the mansions and stately>istoric homes, to Troy where I entered the Champlain lock system, taking me to Lake Champlain and back into Canada.

Entering Quebec I was concerned that my poor French language skills would make for problems, but to my surprise, people were really friendly and were happy enough to practice their English on me. They'd take me home and then invite their seven brothers and sisters over to meet me. It was one of the friendliest places I visited.

I pedaled up the St. Lawrence past Quebec City but was concerned with shoals in the River so I got a lift to Dalhousie, New Brunswick. Then I pedaled down Northumberland Strait with its beautiful sand beaches and little fishing ports, past Prince Edward Island, and up into the Bras D'Or Lakes on Cape Breton Island, ending my trip at Baddeck.