[Paddlewise] Trip Report - Into the Jaws

      This trip report will be shorter and not nearly as well crafted as
those of the Reverend Bob Carter. One of the reasons is that it was only
a day trip. Another is that it wasn't written by the Reverend.

      The weather forecast was for morning clouds and afternoon sunshine.
That sounded good...I'll drive during the clouds, and paddle in the
bright warm sunshine. In fact, it was cloudy, windy, and cold all day.
The sun never did make an appearance, and there were even a few gratuitous
sprinkles.

      High tide was at about 4 pm, so I knew I could paddle from the ramp
to the mouth of the bay and back before it turned. My party consisted of
me, myself, and I. And I knew that if I got into trouble, I could not
count on me or myself to bail I out.

      Arriving at the ramp, I discovered many boat trailers and trucks parked,
but nobody in sight. I guessed those boats had to be somewhere. The current
was being swept upstream past the ramp at amazing speed, pushed along by
a brisk and chilly wind. Paddling out towards the bar was going to be a
challenge.

      Paddling along the shore turned out to be the ticket. There was a little
less current and a slight but perceptible drop in the wind. The drawback
was that the water was only inches deep in places, with sandbars occurring
all the way to the mouth. One incidental benefit was that no powerboats
were going to run me over in four inches of water. And in such shallow water,
it's hard to get any major wave action going.

      Paddling against the wind and tide were taking their toll. I began to
wonder if I could make it to the mouth of the bay. I started getting chilled,
since I wore only a midweight Capilene shirt, sprayskirt, and pfd, and a
pair of shorts over a midweight Capilene pant. But I convinced me, myself,
and I that cold was just a state of mind, and we kept going. After an hour,
the urge to take a shore break made itself known, but I convinced myself that
the urge to urinate is just mental, and we kept going.

      Eventually I had to stop on shore, or else flood my cockpit. So I found
a nice cobbled and shallow shore to make a stop. All went well until I  
attempted
to re-enter my kayak. Somehow I lost my balance and almost rolled the boat
in less than a foot of water. I was saved by clumsily dropping my butt into
the cockpit, and hoping enough mass was low enough that the boat wouldn't
roll. The mass proved more than adequate and the unexpected roll was averted.
Fortunately, nobody was around to witness my ballet-like entry. I'll just
apply for a patent, call it the butt flop, and move on.

      Continuing on towards the mouth, there was one section where the current
was extraordinarily strong, and I considered turning around. But inch by inch,
the kayak crept past these narrows, and eventaully I was grasped by an  
eddy that
swept the boat rapidly towards the mouth, which was now within 100 yards.
Arriving at the mouth, I was greeted by an incredible sight.

      Waves were making breaking surf on my left. Larger waves were creating
boomers on my right. And in between, in a channel being swept by a ferocious
incoming current, sat half a dozen aluminum fishing boats, trolling against
the tide. This was no place for a flimsy kayak, but what the hell, it was
heaven. Here you are, bobbing around in a mini-maelstrom, being pulled
by competing forces. Get too close to the south beach, and you become surf
road kill. Venture too far north, and you get clobbered by boomers. Sit in
the channel and the current sweeps you away, if a fishing boat doesn't knock
you over first. It was first rate adventure. You had to constantly evaluate
your position relative to the surf, rocks, boomers, boats, and baits. One
fellow landed a fifty pound Chinook salmon right in front of me. I estimated
his weight at around 200 pounds, maybe a little more.

      Eventually I had to count my blessings and beat a retreat back to the
boat ramp. The return trip was like flying, being bourn by the magnificient
current and brisk wind. I could have put my paddle down and just sailed back
to the ramp. After loading up the boat and gear, I headed up the coast,
passing within a few feet of two deer who were clearing brush along the road.
I also drove the truck on the beach for a little while, just like I used
to do as a youngster in Florida. Man, I love being a kid.

Brad Crain
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