Precision
The swell rolls in toward the bay. As it hits the northern point, it encounters obstacles - ROCKS!!! From 100 yards away, I see the wall of water rolling toward the rocks. Giddy with anticipation, my eyes track the water and my mind envisions the ride.
Wah-boom!!! The swell hits the rocks and washes over them ending in a chaotic washing machine of churning whitewater. I envision myself in my sea kayak riding with the wave over the rock and into the melee of whitewater.
We paddle closer to take a look. The tide is low and mixed swells are washing over the rock. Most of the swells are not quite big enough for one to cleanly run a 15' sea kayak over the rock. Jeff hops on one of the bigger waves and bombs over the rock in an 11' whitewater kayak.
I move into position and watch and wait. And watch and wait. And watch and wait. It is work to stay in position. The swells aren't big enough to cleanly ride over the rock but are strong enough to create surges as the water rushes around the rock and rebound into and out of the nearby sea cave. Draw stroke, draw stroke, draw stroke, reverse paddle, reverse paddle, draw stroke, reverse paddle, reverse paddle . . . still watching and waiting.
As I work to maintain position, I am reading the water - trying to gage its direction, size, and pulse. The sizes of the waves are mostly the same, but some have a longer interval and more water. It is one of these thick waves that I need for a clean ride. In a plastic sea kayak, many kayakers would enjoy a wave that bounced and bumped them over the rock. I am striving for precision and honing my water reading, timing, and paddling skills. I want a clean ride.
As I maintain position, I angle my boat so that I can see out to sea but also so that I can counteract the surging of the water around the rock when I go for my ride.
The swells are mostly wrapping around from the North West or are coming straight in from the West. However as I wait and watch, a wall of water rolls in from the South. It is the perfect size and I am tempted, but I know that my angle of approach is incorrect. That wave would definitely stuff me into the higher part of the rock. I refuse to visualize the consequences beyond that and watch the southern swell explode over the rock.
It is work, and I am becoming impatient. The urge to just try one of the smaller waves is strong and the work maintain position is constant. Smaller waves continue to roll through with the occasional one that possibly could put me over the top smoothly. Knowledge of the consequences of a mistimed wave stays my position and shores-up my patience. This feature is called Nick's Nightmare and has been a nightmare for many besides Nick. Today, Nick is quietly sitting on the outside watching.
Bryant and Jeff are patiently waiting as well. I feel bad that everyone is waiting on me. However, these guys are my paddling posse. We get as excited about each others rides as we do our own, and I know that they want me to get "The Wave of the Day" (or at least my wave of the day). Both Jeff and Bryant had amazing rides at Chicken Point and now it is my turn.
And now, my readers are patiently reading my blog waiting for me to catch my wave.
A bump comes along. It doesn't look much larger than the others but is drawing more water. I am working harder now to maintain my position and see that my elevation has changed. I am looking at a wall of rock in front of me rather than the top of it. I know that this is my wave and paddle straight at the rock. Just moments before my bow hits the rock, the swell rises beneath me and I am hurling over the rock and down the other side.
My heart is in my throat for a moment as my boat plunges into the gaping hole that has opened up at the bottom of the rock.
I keep my weight forward to continue my forward momentum. This feature preys upon fear and will suck tentative paddlers back over its falls. My 15' sea kayak submerges but continues its forward momentum to escape the jaws of Nick's Nightmare.
Mission accomplished.
No boats, marine life, rocks, or paddlers were injured in this sequence of events.
Wah-boom!!! The swell hits the rocks and washes over them ending in a chaotic washing machine of churning whitewater. I envision myself in my sea kayak riding with the wave over the rock and into the melee of whitewater.
We paddle closer to take a look. The tide is low and mixed swells are washing over the rock. Most of the swells are not quite big enough for one to cleanly run a 15' sea kayak over the rock. Jeff hops on one of the bigger waves and bombs over the rock in an 11' whitewater kayak.
I move into position and watch and wait. And watch and wait. And watch and wait. It is work to stay in position. The swells aren't big enough to cleanly ride over the rock but are strong enough to create surges as the water rushes around the rock and rebound into and out of the nearby sea cave. Draw stroke, draw stroke, draw stroke, reverse paddle, reverse paddle, draw stroke, reverse paddle, reverse paddle . . . still watching and waiting.
As I work to maintain position, I am reading the water - trying to gage its direction, size, and pulse. The sizes of the waves are mostly the same, but some have a longer interval and more water. It is one of these thick waves that I need for a clean ride. In a plastic sea kayak, many kayakers would enjoy a wave that bounced and bumped them over the rock. I am striving for precision and honing my water reading, timing, and paddling skills. I want a clean ride.
As I maintain position, I angle my boat so that I can see out to sea but also so that I can counteract the surging of the water around the rock when I go for my ride.
The swells are mostly wrapping around from the North West or are coming straight in from the West. However as I wait and watch, a wall of water rolls in from the South. It is the perfect size and I am tempted, but I know that my angle of approach is incorrect. That wave would definitely stuff me into the higher part of the rock. I refuse to visualize the consequences beyond that and watch the southern swell explode over the rock.
It is work, and I am becoming impatient. The urge to just try one of the smaller waves is strong and the work maintain position is constant. Smaller waves continue to roll through with the occasional one that possibly could put me over the top smoothly. Knowledge of the consequences of a mistimed wave stays my position and shores-up my patience. This feature is called Nick's Nightmare and has been a nightmare for many besides Nick. Today, Nick is quietly sitting on the outside watching.
Bryant and Jeff are patiently waiting as well. I feel bad that everyone is waiting on me. However, these guys are my paddling posse. We get as excited about each others rides as we do our own, and I know that they want me to get "The Wave of the Day" (or at least my wave of the day). Both Jeff and Bryant had amazing rides at Chicken Point and now it is my turn.
And now, my readers are patiently reading my blog waiting for me to catch my wave.
A bump comes along. It doesn't look much larger than the others but is drawing more water. I am working harder now to maintain my position and see that my elevation has changed. I am looking at a wall of rock in front of me rather than the top of it. I know that this is my wave and paddle straight at the rock. Just moments before my bow hits the rock, the swell rises beneath me and I am hurling over the rock and down the other side.
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| Rocking the Valley Gemini SP. Photo by Bryant Burkhardt |
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| Plunging into Nick's Nightmare. Photo by Jeff Laxier |
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| Escaping the Grasp of Nick's Nightmare. Photo by Jeff Laxier |
No boats, marine life, rocks, or paddlers were injured in this sequence of events.
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