Getting Paced In The Pace

I am in my new boat and, unlike the green slime, it is breakable. This makes me feel fragile and breakable. Doug and Rae help me launch. Rae keeps the bow pointed into the waves - which are as big as I have ever seen them at Sunshine Bay - and Doug pushes off the stern. I usually launch myself. Paddling a sea kayak on the open ocean, you have to be self-sufficient. But, I am out, and quickly paddling beyond the peaking swells to join John. One by one, the rest of the group launches. We are eight and heading north. Realistically, we can only head north as the north wind is already blowing and is forecast to peak at 20 to 25 knots.

We paddle across the bay to Archeron Ledge. I am faster than before, but not miraculously fast. My stroke is still awkward, Rae thinks my paddle is too long. I think I agree with her. From Archeron, we paddle out around Three Islet Point in big swells. The kind of swells that tower over your head. The swell is often bigger at Three Islet Point than at North Head, although I tend think of North Head as the entrance to the bay.

There is a steady but as yet relatively modest north wind blowing. The sea, however, is confused, a large easterly swell overlaid with a northerly sea. It feels chaotic at times. We paddle north for a distance. I am getting more comfortable in my new boat but I am still unsure of how far I can lean it, and how it reacts in breaking waves. The group is widely spread, and waiting for the others in such a messy sea is a harbinger for sea sickness.

Rae leading the way

At some point, we turn around. and I get out in front of the group. I am never in front of the group and it somehow feels a lonely place. I find it twist around in my new boat to see where every one is without the boat feeling a bit shaky. Soon Rae, who has the capacity to sprint between widely spaced kayaks with ease comes along side and directs me into the shelter of Three Islet Point to wait for the others. "Doug is rafted up with Neil" she says, "but it is nothing to worry about."

Once inside Three Islet Point, I do worry a little. I never let Doug out of my sight and I cannot see him at all. Later I find out that Neil had capsized while surfing a wave and Doug was helping him back into his boat. Once everyone is back inside the bay, we head into Judges Beach for lunch.

Rescues at sea are pretty common

I am keen to do more paddling. It is my first time out in my new boat and I want to see how it handles in varying conditions. Today I will get more than I bargained for. We head further into the bay. Those with sails are whipping along in the 15 to 20 knot wind, and I am pleasantly surprised to find that even without a sail I am not that far behind.

Doug at Square Head on a calmer day

Mike, Neil and John peel off towards Sunshine Bay, while the rest of us paddle west into the bay. At Square Head, Doug and Tony paddle through the long gutter gauntlet. I love this gauntlet. It is long and narrow with a couple of choke spots in between. In bigger swells, like today, the choke spots suck dry and you have to watch you don't hit big rocks. I am not going in today, however, in my new boat. I do hope I am not always so precious about the new boat.

The indestructible green slime on 

a different day at Square Head

From Square Head, we paddle south across to the breakwater and catch a couple of green waves. The break here shifts with the tide, and right now it is much further in the bay. The wind is really whipping now, and it feels like time to head back to Sunshine Bay.

Sitting out back watching waves break

is always confronting, these were quite manageable

I find the next six kilometres a huge and wearying battle. The NE wind is blowing 20 to 25 knots, and it feels like a headwind as we plug along past Observation Point heading for Sunshine Bay. The wind is blowing directly onto all the rocky headlands and islets that are usually so interesting along this section of coast. I am paranoid I will get blown onto them and shatter my new boat. I can literally see pieces of orange and red composite floating on the sea.

The new Pace before the first run,

PC, K. Darby

Accordingly, I take a really long route around the headlands which means I not only paddle further but more directly into the wind than everyone else. The rest of the group is closer in, and having an easier time of it. They all wonder what the heck I am doing. I wonder a bit myself. My bow is a little light and the boat is continually turning with the wind.

At Sunshine Bay, the view towards the beach is confronting. Big waves rise up and peak. All we can see is the backs of white curling waves. The beach is invisible behind the big rollers. There are a lot of rock reefs in Sunshine Bay, and again, visions of orange and red fibreglass with perhaps a seat attached floating as debris on the ocean unrolls through my head.

We should have landed. Rae has talked to Neil on the beach and once in a bit, the landing is fine. Everyone with the exception of me wants to land, but I freak out and insist we paddle back to Corrigans Beach. This is my mistake and I need to own it. The boat would not have broken, nor would I. I could make all kinds of legitimate sounding excuses about not being used to my new boat, the 25 knot wind blowing us around, but in the end it all came down to irrational fear.

It feels like as much a battle back to Corrigans Beach as before. I am pointing to directly into the wind again, fighting to keep the nose upwind, worried about being smashed on the rocks; in general, an over-anxious wreck. Of course, my paddle stroke has long ago fallen apart and I am still taking too wide a tack around the headlands making everything harder for myself.

Another day, another capsize, not sure

how I managed to capsize in this easy spot

Finally, we paddle around Observation Point into the shelter of Corrigans Beach. I had eventually given in to Doug's exhortations to steer off from the wind and had suddenly found the paddling much easier. One by one we roll into the beach. Karen tips out of her boat at the last minute and her rudder falls off her boat (note the foreshadowing here). I am glad to be ashore, wondering why I am drawn to sports that are hard for me. Could I not, at 55, hang up the rock shoes and rack, turn to bushwalking instead of climbing, paddle gently on inland lakes and sheltered bays, ride my bike on paved cycle tracks instead of crashing repeatedly on the single track? Why do I have to keep beating my thick head against a wall of intimidating sports?

Night falls..... It is day two in my new boat. Karen and I are getting forward stroke instruction from Rae. Rae has the most effortless, efficient and elegant paddle stroke of anyone I know. No matter the conditions, cruising downwind, towing two sick paddlers in the huge swells off Wilsons Promontory or battling into a headwind, she seems to move without struggle through any conditions.

We launch from Corrigans Beach today, a bit worried about a repeat of yesterday as the wind is supposed to be even stronger than yesterday. Ironically, the wind and swell are about half what they were the day before. From Corrigans Beach we work on our forward stroke over to Cullendulla Bay. This is a nice sheltered spot to practice drills in clear, relatively warm water.

I flub my first roll. My second and third are shaky. The fourth is another flub, and after two tries I bail out and rescue with Rae's help. I am definitely better practicing on my own where I can take my time.

It is time to head over to the bar for some surfing. There is a big sandbar in Batemans Bay which breaks fairly frequently. In big southerly swells, it can feel too big, other times, it is too small, or at least it was for the green slime. Karen is nicely catching the fronts of waves and riding in on the green face. Rae soon disappears riding in wave after wave.

Heading out the bar

As usual, I pick what is probably the worst spot. My first ride is not too bad, but I broach quickly. I am using the rudder. I never use the rudder in the green slime but I am trying the rudder for a couple of rides in my new boat as, apparently, that is what Pace owners do. My second and third waves are quite wild. I broach immediately and am side surfed, then spun completely around and back surfed, back to forward facing, then side surfing, all on one wave. Somehow I keep myself upright, and then decide to head out into the channel to catch my breath.

But I am in the midst of all the breaking waves and the bow keeps kicking around no matter what I do with the rudder. It is good practice for surf exits though so I keep paddling through each wave as it rises up. I'm glad I am wearing a wetsuit, and the helmet does not hurt either. When I limp out into the channel, I turn around and see my rudder hanging off the back of my boat at a sick angle. Rae comes over and is somewhat agog as well. A day and a half into a new boat and the rudder falls off!

Side surfing the new kayak

Luckily I am near the Marina so I paddle in and try to effect a repair. Had I realised the seat adjustment allen key, which is still attached inside my cockpit, would have screwed in the two loose screws, I could have got right back out there. But, with fingers only, I can't get the screws in to even begin to tighten them. I wiggle the rudder back into place, but retracted and paddle out to tell Rae and Karen I will meet them back at Corrigans Beach.

I'm not sure what my paddle is doing,

nothing useful

The wind is only around 10 to 12 knots, but it is enough to keep turning the bow into the wind for the two kilometre journey back. I give up on paddling and row back with my paddle extended and using a classic oar stroke solely on one side of the kayak. The next day I have seized up muscles on just that side of my body. Paddling a Pace without a rudder would really suck.