Monday morning (three-day weekend) I awoke in time to catch the sunrise. I noted that the incoming waves were mostly too much for me to handle in my kayak, but I thought I’d give them a couple hours and a difference in tide. I went on a 2-hour beachcombing trek to the north, but returned to find that the waves were now barreling – not a good sign. As I packed up I started timing the breaks between wave sets and came up with an optimistic 58 seconds I’d have to make it through the 40m or so to freedom, provided I could guess correctly when those 58 seconds began.
I loaded my kayak up and tied everything down tight, expecting a flip as a very real possibility. I waded out to where I thought my best starting point would be and waited until a break. But from water level, even the breaks between sets looked scary. Coming in with the waves provides the disadvantage of being unable to see the what’s coming down on top of you from behind, but it does have the advantage of being able to ride the incoming water. Going out to sea means fighting against the incoming waves.
I made a couple false starts and, an hour after starting, decided to go back ashore and reanalyze my situation. The more I watched the waves, the more I realized I probably wasn’t going to make it out safely. So I moved on to Plan B, which I’d developed while beachcombing earlier. The next bay to the north had a much smaller reef to cross to reach the deep water. This meant more violent waves, but less distance to cross. So I hauled my kayak through little waterways and tidepools and over some big rock formations before getting it lodged on some rocks so I could go watch the waves. While watching – and timing – I heard a commotion. A rogue wave coming from the other harbor had dislodged my kayak (and battered my fishing rods on the rocks) and it was quickly making an escape out into the crashing waves. I had no other option but to jump into the shallow water from up high where I was standing to save my kayak, which I did. I decided this was my cue so I kayaked around the corner, faced the waves, thought I saw a break, and made a run for it. I went up and over three big waves that had already broke (my kayak slapping down on the backside of each wave) before going up the face of a fourth. At this point, I remember actually saying “uh, oh” aloud, but when it didn’t break, and I rolled off the back, I knew I was probably safe. This didn’t keep me from furiously paddling a few more minutes, but it allowed my mind to catch up with my racing heart.
And as if this wasn’t enough, I actually got turned back by waves again as I came around the south side Geruma Island. I had to paddle back around the island and come through the passage between Geruma and Aka.
Remember in that movie, Castaway, when Tom Hanks builds his raft and decides to head out to sea, only to be crushed and returned to shore by big waves? That was how I felt. (Except I made it out.)
3 comments:
This sounds dangerous. Please be careful. -J
I should clarify that this wasn't a life-threatening experience. It was dangerous, sure, and I could possibly have been hurt. But probably not. I am experienced with waves. The only danger was to my gear. If nothing else I probably could have left all of my stuff on the island and tried to swim out through the surf with the kayak. Don't worry, mom, I wasn't going to die.
Ahhh, David - you must have been reading my mind ~ I really was worried about your safety! As a matter of fact, I woke up this morning thinking I need to send a separate email reminding you to a)always wear a lifejacket b)take a waterproof bag with matches and extra food supply and c)get a cell phone so you can contact someone in case of emergency (never thought I'd say that!). But, here I am reminding you about all these things on your blog!! I was worried you'd be stuck on an island somewhere and no one would know where to find you. On the flip side, you've had so many interesting experiences you could write a book :-)
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