Time for reflection on water

If you spend much time on the water in a kayak or canoe, sooner or later you’re likely to be transfixed by reflections. Sitting so low in a kayak, reflections dominate your view of calm water from even quite close to where you sit. It’s easier to see beneath the surface by looking straight down but in the wider view, without polarized sunglasses, then reflections rule. All that lies beneath the silvered surface is rendered largely invisible.

Freeways cross over water Seattle

Trees and branches overhanging rivers and canals,  create scenes of pleasing symmetry. There is a similar visual tunnel effect between the two images below despite their very different locations, France and Missool, Raja Ampat.

Reflected plane trees, Kristin Nelson on Canal du Midi France

Arching nipa palms, Misool Indonesia

Some reflections appear more constructed than others. The bold reflected shapes beneath bridges with pillars arches and girders, quiver and gently distort as ripples move between the solid structures. I am left with the impression the solid structure exists beneath me, no matter what the actual depth is, or the real nature of the bottom. (for explanation of the green water color, see my Color of Water blog post)

Illusion of underwater dock construction, Seattle

Neither can I resist an opportunity to pause in the face of semicircular arches that are sucked into visual tubes by reflection. Do the curves really continue beneath the surface? Is this structure a tube, or is that just an illusion? The real bottom may be flat, and just beneath the surface, but it’s difficult to discard the impression that it follows the shape and depth of a tube.

Illusion of tubular tunnel, Kanu-Funsport Leipzig Germany

Reflected, concrete girders under a freeway that offer nesting shelter for pigeons and surfaces for clandestine graffiti scribblers create optical illusions of solid structures just beneath the placid surface, but as soon as the surface is disturbed the structures morph into dizzily shifting curlicue patterns.

Reflected Girders beneath freeway

Girders reflected in wavelets

Closer view of reflected girders in wavelets

The eye sees and the mind attempts to make order of the subtly shifting patterns. Only by taking a snapshot of the reflections does it become easier to see why the patterns are so challenging to follow. Even in a snapshot the crisscrossing wave patterns form such twisted reflections that seen out of context they illustrate a puzzling reality. Serving as Rorschach ink blots, the frozen shapes can conjure all manner of things, but rarely reveal the original object that was reflected. When the image is rapidly moving, what chance do you have of making sense of the shifting tree-ring patterns? 

wavelets create tree-ring style patterns

Ripples in motion

Stainless steel anchors, anchor pockets and scratch plates on ship hulls contrast the warping mirror of water, offering steadier mirrored surfaces. Just as from a flat-water surface an individual facet will reflect simply. However, multifaceted surfaces shatter reflections in a completely different way to water, creating collages of recognizable reflected bits of the surroundings.

Collage of reflections around anchor 

Water does something similar, but the effect is repeated many more times over by the procession of ripples each presenting its own set of constantly changing reflections from its uniquely morphing three-dimensional curves. Small undulations across an otherwise smooth surface cause shifting curvilinear shapes; shapes that are echoed in art including art from Papua.

Surreal abstract patterns of reflection in water

Although bridges and tunnels and docks offer some amazing reflections, there’s little more pleasing to me than cruising across flat water when the sky is blue with a few fluffy clouds. Looking ahead I have the sensation of flying high above the clouds, which shape-shift beside me as the wake from my bow warps the surface. Close beside my craft the reflected clouds seem to fade, and I can see through them into the water, perhaps seeing fingers of watermilfoil reaching up toward me, or fish darting away. And there on the surface itself, all around me suspended above the mirrored sky is another world of objects too light to sink, too heavy to fly. Here are insects that can walk on water. Here are floating plants, the leaves of waterlilies, feathers and twigs.

Cruising above the sky, Labrador (from the book On Polar Tides)

If you've enjoyed this blog post, find more of my creations on Nigel Foster YouTube channel, and on nigel foster vimeo. You can find my books on my store. I'm also available for presentations and special kayak instruction.

Reflection of canoeist, ceramicist  Kristin Nelson shattered by ripples 

The kayaks glimpsed in this post are by Nigel Foster (Point65 DoubleShot and Whisky 16 and Seaward  Kayaks Legend) 

Kayaking Misool Raja Ampat Indonesia

Kayaking Misool Indonesia

When Nick invited me to guest guide somewhere warm last winter, Indonesia was not on my radar. True as a student I had been fascinated by Borneo, but that was years ago, before the internet and the web, when I imagined Borneo as inhospitable with head hunters who might want me for more than my managerial skills. But Borneo is a thousand miles from West Papua, the part of Indonesia where Nick kept his kayaks.

A dugout canoe floats beside houses on stilts

I searched for a map of Misool, for tourist information, for anything about Misool on the web, and found very little, except for some glowing references to the richness of the underwater wildlife. I learned about fish and corals, but little above water level. I failed to find a map to take.

Agreeing to go, I placed myself very much in Nick’s hands and those of his Indonesian kayak guides. With no definitive map, the place names we used were the names Nick had come up with for his own reference. If I needed more, I’d have to make them up.

Nick is an explorer, happy to push his way through thorny jungle fending off dengue fever and malaria, tackling mosquitoes with a machete and a tough skin. He rarely pauses except to wonder what lies over there, before going to find out. He visited some amazing places, then his globe-trotting paused here when he realized its great kayaking potential.

Nick established his company, Millekul Adventures, to introduce adventurous people into places like this. Here the fantasy land of Christmas tree shaped rock stacks and Tolkienesque mazes, with hilltop viewpoints and ancient references seemed perfect for his needs. Except with few possible places to stay, and with any rare hidden beaches which might otherwise offer camping guarded by local clans, he set about meeting people and learning.

From Sorong in West Papua we caught the Express Ferry direct to the Raja Ampat island Misool. It was early in the year, the ferry crowded with passengers and loaded with cargo that had been carried on board by hand across the decks of two ships moored between the ferry and the quay. The only respite from humid heat was a small back deck, from which we watched the wake reveal where we had been.

We scrambled ashore at a village on Misool, passing bags and supplies hand to hand along our human chain to pile them on the wooden dock, a place alive with children and adults alike carrying boxes of goods away as soon as they were thrown down from the high deck of the ferry. Wooden walkways led from the dock into the town, a maze of small houses on stilts above the shallows. Outriggers and dugouts floated or wallowed awash underneath. Our boatmen methodically loaded all our supplies in just a few minutes, and we climbed down into a long, narrow blue and red painted boat. Speeding away, we were soon soaked to the skin in salt spray as the daylight faded. Our destination was the island where Nick had his Whisky16 kayaks.

Impressions of Misool soon overloaded my senses. There was the heat and humidity, day and night, coral beaches and turquoise seas, rainbows, the call of strange birds. There were turtle tracks up the beach and an intimidating northern cassowary. In the evening the wonderful flavor of unfamiliar fish cooked with spices from nearby islands. Such spices in Europe once cost more than their weight in gold. 

As the kayaking trip unfolded there was the karst scenery, towering islands of grey limestone so eroded by the carbonic acid in rainwater that every edge of the pocked surface had been honed sharp as a blade, every finger-hold like a needle. 

Tucked into the myriad rock pockets and holes were plants, leathery green leaves of orchids in flower, and pitcher plants dangling down the faces. 

Karst landscape presents a Tolkeinesque maze of rocks and islands

Coconut palms broke the skyline between the crags, mangrove trees flirted along the sheltered shallow water edges. Corals teemed with fish in the warm water above wave-cut platforms, and deep sinkholes dropped into clear dark blue.

We cruised the lagoons, rocks and shoals, with the helicopter beat of hornbills and the shriek of sulphur-crested parakeets resounding from the canopy of the jungle-clad slopes.

Camping where Nick had negotiated permission, we strung lines and set mesh tents onto palm fronds on the sand beneath lightweight tarps. Every lunch break offered an opportunity to snorkel in the clear water with the corals and tropical fish. Occasionally we saw a temporary fishing camp with dugout canoes, and long narrow fishing boats with outboards. 

Fishing camp with tarps over tied bamboo frames full of curious children

The fishermen had tied bamboo frames to spread with tough blue tarps to make shelter for boarded sleeping platforms. Threatened by a sudden tropical downpour, we were ushered to shelter with the opportunity to meet locals.

Misool, along with Papua and many small islands, sits on the Australian continental shelf. Across a deeper channel to the west, Sumatra, Java and Borneo rest instead on the Asian continental shelf. Darwin’s contemporary, Alfred Russel Wallace, the man who independently came up with a theory of evolution of species, had in the mid-1800s recognized how deeper water between the continental shelves created a barrier to fauna. There was a dividing line between species of animals in the two regions. 

The line he defined, the Wallace Line, is where he saw species change from Asian to Australian. On the Asian side were monkeys and tigers, on the other marsupials such as wallabies and cuscus. The islands between had a slight mixing where some species had presumably swum from the mainland. 

But if there was one creature that we spotted more often than another it was the ubiquitous land crab. The largest of all land crabs is the coconut crab, Birgus latro. It might easily have been named the coconut crab because of its size. It is large. On the other hand, it has been seen to climb coconut trees dragging a coconut behind it to let it drop to the ground to break it. It also has a powerful claw that can de-husk, open and shred a coconut. Coconut crabs can fall from a tree from 15 feet with no apparent harm.

Torleif bravely holds a coconut crab

Another name by which Birgus latro is known is the robber crab, so besides avoiding trees with falling coconuts and crabs, it’s always good to keep an eye on your belongings and to close your tent zipper. That’s not only to discourage unwelcome guests, whether mosquito or sheltering land crab, but also because a large land crab can and will, as Brigitte discovered, drag away quite large items such as a nylon pack full of goodies.

Sitting on the edge of the Australian continental shelf, this area has surely been visited if not peopled for thousands of years. During the last ice age people could have walked here from what is now Australia. Pictographs survive on the cliffs, scribed in red, dating back 2-5,000 years, protected by overhangs from erosion.

Pictoraphs adorn sea cliff walls beneath overhangs

Beneath overhangs there’s a visible difference from the sharp-edged karst. It's the mildly acidic rainwater that slowly eats away at the exposed rock surfaces and carries away the limestone as soluble calcium bicarbonate, leaving all the sharp edges. The calcium bicarbonate solution drains away through cracks in the rock to drip from the roof of overhangs, but before dripping, the water degases, freeing carbon dioxide from the calcium bicarbonate and depositing calcium carbonate before the water drips. These deposits build into long stalactites, curtains and organ-pipe formations, smooth as silk with no sharp edges.

Sea caves and land caves riddle the islands with holes

Of course, water not only drips from overhangs, it also flows together into bedding planes in the rock creating streams that gouge out tunnels and caverns. The rock here is riddled with such tunnels, both miniature and mighty. Exploring caves by kayak and on foot it became evident that each limestone island has become eroded into something like a sponge, full of holes and tunnels. But whereas the outer surfaces of the islands are hot and menacing with sharp edges that can cut skin, the insides are cooler, contoured, smooth and forgiving.

Our journey eventually carried us from a sea bursting with shoals of jumping fish, and rained upon by frigate birds, up into a jungle river as far as we could go. From our highest landing, we explored along hunters’ tracks. Far beneath a canopy alive with birds we heard but seldom saw at ground level, we watched brilliant butterflies and tripped on fallen fruits we did not recognize. There were stout vines dangling everywhere to swing Tarzan-like over the warm clear blue jungle streams.

Ascending a Misool jungle river as far as we could

As night approached, there was the clatter of hornbills flying in and crying from the high canopy, along with tuneful calls from birds we couldn’t name. With the fast falling night came a chorus of frogs and insects, the leathery wing-beats of fruit bats and the flit of smaller bats catching mosquitoes or moths. Here and there we spotted the rising star of a firefly lifting high between the trees, and on the ground the bioluminescent glow from rotting vegetation. 

Learn more about Misool from Millekul Adventures, where you’ll find a short YouTube video of the kayaking. If you’re interested to join me, Nigel Foster, I plan to paddle there again (contact Millekul Adventures) next January and early February. See you there?

The Color of Water

Water is a great chameleon, seemingly able to change color in an instant, yet we seldom notice the changes even when we are gazing out to sea. We are so accustomed to seeing the many colors of water that we rarely take note of where these colors come from.

Clear water in Indonesia appears blue-green in shallows, dark blue in deep

So, what gives water its color? When we pour distilled water into a glass it appears clear and colorless. In fact, although it is almost transparent to visible light, it is very slightly blue.

Looking down into deep clear open ocean, the water appears blue, dark blue. (see my blog post on the Kuroshio current, Taiwan)

Open ocean water appears dark blue

That's because other wavelengths of light are more readily absorbed.  Red is absorbed first, and next orange and yellow too. Blue and green penetrate through shallower water and blue penetrates farthest.That’s why we commonly see a variety of greens and blues in shallower water, but only blue in deep ocean.

Closer to land, plankton (see article for plankton distribution) typically makes the water appear more green or brown.

Plankton colors this Pacific coastal water green

But that’s not the end of the story. China’s second largest river is aptly named “Yellow River” due to the color of the mineral sediment it carries to the sea, and that affects the sea color too over a considerable area near its mouth. Rivers commonly carry silt from runoff, especially when in flood, and this can color the water red, yellow, brown or grey depending on the eroding soil type. On the coast, waves stir up shore sediments that color the water.

A suspension of silt colors this French river yellow

Not all color is from particles in suspension. Dissolved tannin from vegetation can turn a river blood-red, orange or yellow. In a glass such river water is clear and the color of whisky, or black tea. It’s not cloudy. You cannot filter out dissolved tannin. The red color of tannin-rich water acts as a red filter, filtering out other colors of light including blue. But red light cannot penetrate far into water anyway. Deeper water appears black. Such tannin-rich streams are referred to as black water rivers.

Orange tannin-rich water flows across a track in Australia

The true color of water, very slightly blue, plus what is in it, dissolved or in suspension, still only accounts for part of what we see. Sometimes the surface is colored with a layer of yellow pollen, or with duckweed, so then it is the color of the surface covering we see. 

Duckweed colors this waterway green

At other times the water is clear and shallow, and we see the color of the sand or mud of the bottom.

Here in Florida we see the color of the bottom as the water color

And then there are reflections that blend with or completely hide the colors underneath. A blue sea under a blue sky can turn grey on an overcast day. The color we see is often the color of the sky But you can gaze out over blue water in one direction and turn your head to see the same water appear green with the reflection of a green hillside. Given the water surface is not always flat, those reflections can come from many directions, sending a mosaic of colors dancing across the surface.

Reflection of a red hull in Seattle borders sky blue

Artists have long made use of the crazy abstract patterns and color combinations light creates on water, 

Abstract patterns of reflection from a moored ship

and they also tackle the multiple worlds revealed when you glance down into the water to see first the reflections of above-water surroundings, then the surface meniscus with floating debris, and below, through the underwater scene to the dancing patterns of light cast by the lens of surface ripples onto the bottom.

We see colors of the bottom, the water and reflections

Water can appear in all the colors of the rainbow. I find it always rewarding to take time to identify where the colors are coming from.

All the colors of the rainbow

Find more about the Color of Water on Nigel Foster YouTube channel. Interested to have Nigel make a presentation to your group? Check out nigelkayaks