[Paddlewise] Nothing to fear but fear Itself

Of course it CAN be a real killer! Perhaps I should have heeded Henry and
Kathy's advice a little closer. Not that I ignored it. I ran into them at
the end of their paddle playing in the surge that was making it all the way
in to Pirate's Cove. They said there was a large, sneaky, southern set that
would rumble through every now and then with out warning and a bit farther
out than the regular swells. It was about what I expected on the day.

On my paddle south to the beach, the swells made themselves known. I hung
out a very safe distance from the shore as a couple large sets rolled in. It
was quite a bit like Tuesday when I chose to eschew any wave play, but there
wasn't any wind complicating things today. I decided to sneak in a little
closer, so I pointed my stern to the beach and back-paddled in a bit. I was
out far enough that the waves were just beginning to form. They were not the
pretty, iridescent waves shining in the sun that formed last sunny Monday,
they were gray-green brutes who swallowed all the light. But what the heck,
I moved in a little closer.

Now I was having some fun playing in the ways, albeit at a pretty safe area.
Soon I noticed I was pretty close to shore, but the waves seemed to have
died down a bit. Then a nasty, large wave appeared looming in the distance.
Now I should have punched it; I could have made it, but I think I already
had it in my mind that I wasn't supposed to be in there. I chickened out and
rolled in front of it with just the tiny hope that I could use the surge
after it to actually roll back up. I fully admit it was a pathetic hope. So
now I was in the drink with another big wave on the way and mad that I let
that sneaker get the better of me.

Perhaps someone can explain the phenomenon of why the sea looks so much
scarier to me on an overcast day. Had the sun been out, I think I would have
plowed over that wave come hell or high water. It was my mind set that did
me in, not the true conditions. Perhaps some will fault my decision to get
involved in the waves, but I have to say, while I'm feeling much more
confident in the surf line in my kayak, I feel completely fine there once
I'm out of it. I love to have waves crashing down on me, so now my only real
worry was to hold on to my kayak to keep it from heading to the rocks on the
beach. Holding on to the painter on my boat with the large waves crashing in
was like having your boot stuck in the stirrups of a careening bucking
bronco. Course, you have to know that going in. I let the waves pull my boat
an me closer to the shore till it looked pretty safe, let it go and walked
on shore. A gaggle of sand-footed Lookiloos on the beach were already
collection my flotsam and jetsam and came up to make sure I was OK. Alas
only a bruised ego and the concern of what the trip off the beach would be
like.

On the beach, the waves coming to shore seemed like a constant barrage, but
after a while the sun came out a bit and things seemed less daunting. My
poor camera suffered a pretty good beating on the deck of my boat and was
covered in mud. It had already lost some function from some earlier abuse
and now sounded like projector with a couple missing sprockets, although it
still works. With the sun out as I sat in my kayak waiting to launch, the
waves seemed to have calmed a bit and almost seem to promise to take it easy
on me should I decide to stay and play, but I wasn't going to press my luck.
I made it out with no great problems, though I faced a minor gauntlet all
the way through. The video I took of the wave that got me is similar to the
one I posted from Monday which Lee posted on the CKF website, but I still
might put it up later if only to remind me to save the rolls for breakfast.

Mark Sanders
www.sandmarks.net
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