I can count the times I've encountered towering
waves that broke over the deck of my kayak on one hand (probably with fingers
to spare).
There was that time on theColumbia
when Fred capsized at its confluence with the Deschutes
(for one).
And then there was that time I made my exodus from Long Island into something of a wind tunnel on the east side ofWillapa Bay
The Tsunami 125 has been a patient, forgiving tutor. However, while one is actually in it, its two storage hatches are inaccessible, so things you might want (like cameras) are either in the cockpit with you, or lashed to the deck. Do you need to change lenses in the middle of the river? Not unless you like to juggle delicate equipment over the abyss of no return. What if you also want to learn how to fish? Now you have to figure out how to pack fishing poles and tackle boxes so that you have a chance of retaining most of your investment should you tip over. While there is some space behind the seat for waterproof items that can take some squishing, I'm otherwise not too keen to set various dry-bags on my lap or between my legs since, more often than not, I have to remove the spray skirt to get to them, and more significantly, these items become entanglements when attempting to exit the cockpit. After reading accounts of medal winning kayak legends being pinned in their cockpits to drown, I put stuff there only temporarily and with deep foreboding.
It's clearly designed to be a fishing kayak because it
has four flush-mounted fishing pole
holders and a ruler on the center rectangular hatch for measuring your catch.
The rectangular hatch was big enough to accommodate the dry bag that holds my emergency gear and camera gear. However, I was surprised to find that this space was fully enclosed with no access to the interior of the boat. This means there's a good chance that this hatch is actually water-tight. It also means that you won't sink your kayak if you flip it while this hatch is open. But it also means that you won't be putting any fishing poles in it without modifications to your boat.
A padded seat and seat-back clips into the kayak at four connection points around the back end of the molded cockpit. Presumably, the straps are adjustable, but their function, and the benefits for adjusting them remained inscrutable to me for the duration of the trial. As I installed the seat, I noted that the seating area was scarcely higher than the floor of the kayak and the seat cushion itself seemed somewhat underwhelming.
Once I actually sat in the kayak, I noted that I was pretty much sitting in water. I'm not sure how much water, because I was wearing a dry suit, but I suspect, if it was summer, my butt would look like a prune by the end of a day's journey (and yes, this does imply that my butt does not normally look like a prune).
Observe also that the giant, elevated rectangular hatch gives the otherwise open cockpit the same sense of constriction that you'd expect in an enclosed cockpit. Since it is elevated, it makes reaching the front hatch a risky proposition as you high center yourself over the top.
It turns out, this is what a paddle holder is.
The National Weather Service had predicted that mild November conditions were in the process of rapid change. Clear skies and temperatures in the mid fifties were destined to deteriorate to wind and rain and freezing temperatures. The average wind speed for my excursion was 12.2 mph with the highest wind speed recorded at 25 and the highest gust at 34 (there evidently being a difference between high winds and high gusts).
Ominous dark clouds spent the afternoon racing to block out the sky.
I halfheartedly tried testing out the Ultra 4.3's secondary stability, but I seem to have a dependable self-preservation instinct and didn't ever tip to the point of failure.
I also didn't load the tank well with the 144 frozen beer test load. The peculiar shape of the tank well is custom designed to fit an ice box storage pod. If I was at a point where I could dependably catch fish, I might consider such a device, but for now, it looks like I could stow lots of camping gear here. Looks like you have to come up with your own rigging.
Looking downriver. The Willamette empties into theColumbia
Paddling into the wind and current, the kayak goes
where I tell it to go. Even pointed directly into the wind, it tracks straight.
However, it doesn't make much headway. I try angling into the wind, but don't
notice any advantage I'd hoped to gain by tacking...perhaps because it doesn't
have much of a keel.
The kayak's maneuverability is excellent as I cut through the maze of pilings that support the unlikely docks to which the ships are leashed. Once I start employing the use of windbreaks, the Ultra 4.3 leaps forward.
TheSt.
Johns Bridge
Heading downwind, the boat's tail end tends to swing around to the side. I frequently break my paddling cadence to correct the angle. All in all, it takes only a quarter of the time out to return to my launch point.
This is the point where I truly began to appreciate Wilderness System's seating solution.
The tugboat crew puts the finishing touches on the barge package they've been stringing together. I'm reminded of a spider prowling the perimeter of a freshly constructed web.
This is the point where I got yelled at for getting too close.
Once again, I've cut it kind of close concerning whether or not I'll be able to actually see the take out point in the gathering gloom.
Clearly, not everybody got to take Friday off. The rumble of giant conveyor belts and great animal-like pneumatic sighs punctuate the dusk. Artificial light obviously marks this as a stubborn human outpost, launching yet another vessel into an unforgiving ocean.
Pretty much too late, I think to take a picture of the Ultra 4.3's hull configuration.
There was that time on the
And then there was that time I made my exodus from Long Island into something of a wind tunnel on the east side of
The Tsunami 125 has been a patient, forgiving tutor. However, while one is actually in it, its two storage hatches are inaccessible, so things you might want (like cameras) are either in the cockpit with you, or lashed to the deck. Do you need to change lenses in the middle of the river? Not unless you like to juggle delicate equipment over the abyss of no return. What if you also want to learn how to fish? Now you have to figure out how to pack fishing poles and tackle boxes so that you have a chance of retaining most of your investment should you tip over. While there is some space behind the seat for waterproof items that can take some squishing, I'm otherwise not too keen to set various dry-bags on my lap or between my legs since, more often than not, I have to remove the spray skirt to get to them, and more significantly, these items become entanglements when attempting to exit the cockpit. After reading accounts of medal winning kayak legends being pinned in their cockpits to drown, I put stuff there only temporarily and with deep foreboding.
So I'm looking for an improbable watercraft that has the
hauling capacity of a canoe (as well as a canoe's flexibility with regard to
seating positions and accessibility to cargo), the stability of my Tsunami, the
speed of a sea kayak, and, of course, a cup-holder.
Ocean Kayak's Trident Ultra 4.3 is a sit-on-top kayak
designed for fishing. As the idea of a 'fishing kayak' has caught on, there has
been a sort of a trend to develop ever more stable platforms. This has resulted
in something I think they used to call boats (some even have motors). But some
of the sit on tops still employ design strategies inherited from sea kayaks.
The Ultra 4.3 has noticeable 'rocker', a fairly narrow width at 29.1 inches
(just 3 more than my Tsunami) and a nose and tail that look like a keeled
craft (for tracking), but a fairly flat belly (for maneuvering).
The Ultra 4.3 didn't have any cup-holders that I could see.
I had to make do with the much publicized pivoting hatch top that spins around
(see the fancy silver 'T' hinge at right) so either surface can be hidden away
in the giant rectangular hatch. One side of the hatch top has a bottle holder
built into it. The other side seems to be designed for mounting a fish finder.
The literature says this is handy if, when coming to shore through pounding
surf, you'd want to protect your fish finder screen by turning it around to the
inside. But the literature doesn't really explain what to do to protect the
expensive wine bottle that consequently must be exposed to the elements nor how
to fit everything from both sides into the hatch at once.
The rectangular hatch was big enough to accommodate the dry bag that holds my emergency gear and camera gear. However, I was surprised to find that this space was fully enclosed with no access to the interior of the boat. This means there's a good chance that this hatch is actually water-tight. It also means that you won't sink your kayak if you flip it while this hatch is open. But it also means that you won't be putting any fishing poles in it without modifications to your boat.
A padded seat and seat-back clips into the kayak at four connection points around the back end of the molded cockpit. Presumably, the straps are adjustable, but their function, and the benefits for adjusting them remained inscrutable to me for the duration of the trial. As I installed the seat, I noted that the seating area was scarcely higher than the floor of the kayak and the seat cushion itself seemed somewhat underwhelming.
Once I actually sat in the kayak, I noted that I was pretty much sitting in water. I'm not sure how much water, because I was wearing a dry suit, but I suspect, if it was summer, my butt would look like a prune by the end of a day's journey (and yes, this does imply that my butt does not normally look like a prune).
Observe also that the giant, elevated rectangular hatch gives the otherwise open cockpit the same sense of constriction that you'd expect in an enclosed cockpit. Since it is elevated, it makes reaching the front hatch a risky proposition as you high center yourself over the top.
It turns out, this is what a paddle holder is.
The National Weather Service had predicted that mild November conditions were in the process of rapid change. Clear skies and temperatures in the mid fifties were destined to deteriorate to wind and rain and freezing temperatures. The average wind speed for my excursion was 12.2 mph with the highest wind speed recorded at 25 and the highest gust at 34 (there evidently being a difference between high winds and high gusts).
Ominous dark clouds spent the afternoon racing to block out the sky.
I halfheartedly tried testing out the Ultra 4.3's secondary stability, but I seem to have a dependable self-preservation instinct and didn't ever tip to the point of failure.
I also didn't load the tank well with the 144 frozen beer test load. The peculiar shape of the tank well is custom designed to fit an ice box storage pod. If I was at a point where I could dependably catch fish, I might consider such a device, but for now, it looks like I could stow lots of camping gear here. Looks like you have to come up with your own rigging.
 |
| Click on image to see a slightly larger version |
Looking downriver. The Willamette empties into the
Heading up river and into the wind, I pass a tugboat
preparing to launch.
The kayak's maneuverability is excellent as I cut through the maze of pilings that support the unlikely docks to which the ships are leashed. Once I start employing the use of windbreaks, the Ultra 4.3 leaps forward.
The
Heading downwind, the boat's tail end tends to swing around to the side. I frequently break my paddling cadence to correct the angle. All in all, it takes only a quarter of the time out to return to my launch point.
This is the point where I truly began to appreciate Wilderness System's seating solution.
The tugboat crew puts the finishing touches on the barge package they've been stringing together. I'm reminded of a spider prowling the perimeter of a freshly constructed web.
This is the point where I got yelled at for getting too close.
Once again, I've cut it kind of close concerning whether or not I'll be able to actually see the take out point in the gathering gloom.
Clearly, not everybody got to take Friday off. The rumble of giant conveyor belts and great animal-like pneumatic sighs punctuate the dusk. Artificial light obviously marks this as a stubborn human outpost, launching yet another vessel into an unforgiving ocean.
Pretty much too late, I think to take a picture of the Ultra 4.3's hull configuration.
TSUNAMI 125
|
TARPON 140
|
TRIDENT ULTRA 4.3
|
|
length (ft.)
|
12.6
|
14.0
|
14.1
|
width (in.)
|
26.0
|
28.0
|
29.1
|
weight (lb.)
|
51.0
|
68.0
|
68.0
|
Conclusions:
I feel confident that the Ultra 4.3 can handle challenging
waves and wind, probably more than I am currently willing to voluntarily face.
But I don't like the big rectangular hatch in the middle of the floor. It cuts
off access to the front hatch and really limits my mobility. With the hinge way
at the top, you kind of have to hold it open with one hand, or throw it all the
way open, which then makes it not so convenient to close. The rubber strap
latching system seems carefully designed to stub cold fingers and break
fingernails. The seat was pretty unbearable after 3 hours. Even without being
loaded with gear, I got tired of paddling this kayak. But this could very well
be because of the inclement weather and the time I spent fighting the wind. It
makes me want to try the Tarpon again, but in rougher water to make a fair
comparison.
Comments
Post a Comment