Quite a few sea kayakers have come to
grief in Tuross Bar (go here or here). The first time I saw Tuross Bar was on one of
the regular Friday Tuross Lake paddles when Wildey suggested
conditions might be easy enough for some of us less experienced sea
kayakers to paddle out. The regular group split, the flat water
paddlers set off on the routine circuit of Tuross Lake while a
smaller group headed out to the bar. There were seven of us,
including Wildey, and we pulled up on the south side of the bar. The
tide was flowing in, the safest time to exit these bars as, should
calamity arise, you will at least get dragged back in to shore,
rather than out.
The flat water paddlers head off around Tuross Lake
We hiked up onto the sand dunes
overlooking the bar and, I think I speak for everyone except Wildey,
all took a collective step back. The bar looked frightfully rough.
There was a constant stream of breakers coming in with no real gap,
even across the tidal channel. Wildey said he would paddle out and
assess conditions. He weaved expertly through breaking waves,
exiting the bar not via the channel but via breaking swells to the
south of the channel. Coming back in through the channel, he
disappeared into a large breaking wave at one point, reappearing
unshaken but wet closer in shore. No-one in the group stepped
forward to follow. Instead we spent some time crossing and
recrossing through the current well inside the bar instead and practicing eskimo rolls.
A grainy image of Wildey heading out Tuross Bar
A couple of weeks later, Doug and I
went down again to practice inside the bar. In the intervening
period we had also been paddling in the channel where the Moruya
River runs out to the ocean. It had felt relatively easy so we
wanted to give Tuross Bar another go. The tide was coming in, of
course, and we spent an hour or more paddling back and forth, sitting
in holes created by the incoming tide. I had flashbacks to my long
ago days whitewater kayaking, and all the correct leans and paddle
strokes came easily back. Egress over the bar, however, still looked
quite daunting and we did not try it.
Inside the bar but still in messy conditions
Next day, however, we had a message
from Wildey that the surf outside the bar was very "comfortable"
and we could join in with some other paddlers for a few hours
surfing. The tide was supposed to be on the way in, but was actually
still ebbing. Putting aside our misgivings - Wildey's "comfortable"
surf was unlikely to be our comfortable surf, we thought the
opportunity too good to miss and immediately cancelled our afternoon
plans and drove down to Tuross.
Sea kayaking is all about conditions
and, although there was a strong wind warning in effect, there was no
wind and the smooth regular swell was only around 80 to 100 cm
rolling in to break in deep water off the beach. Conditions really
were "comfortable."
Doug sitting in a small hole at Tuross Bar
Wildey and Peter were both out catching
waves as we paddled easily out through the channel, no waves breaking
across the main channel today. We got some last minute pointers from
both guys, made sure our rudders were stowed away, hats and glasses
secured, and then started to surf.
Paddling out through small surf
It took me a few tries to get up the
courage to get up onto the bigger waves, and, a few times I bailed in
fear, back-paddling just enough to fall off the back of the wave,
but, between Doug and I we caught a lot of waves. Without realising
it, I was getting dragged south down the coast by the ebbing tide,
and was constantly paddling out through surf instead of using the
tidal channel that the other three were using. I was so absorbed in
the surfing that I did not notice until Peter paddled down and
pointed out how far I had drifted from the main channel. Paddling
out through the surf, however, was good practice and every time I
would get a drenching I would remind myself that "kayaking is a
wet sport."
Doug landing in small surf |
I broached sooner than expected on the
last wave I caught and dropped into a big hole as the wave crashed on
top of me. I had to fight the urge to try to paddle out and instead
hooked a high brace over the back of the wave, leaned into it, and
held on. My spray deck imploded under the force of the wave and the
cockpit filled with water but I did not notice until it came time to
paddle back through the surf when I noticed the kayak felt sloppier
than ever. Out behind the surf zone, Doug and I rafted up and I
bailed out and reattached my spray deck.
Kayak surfing is a lot like eskimo
rolling. You need to commit to it, and, you must do what feels
completely wrong. In the latter, you must keep your head down even
though instinct tells you to lift up your head so you can breathe.
In the former, when you broach, you must lean into and embrace that
wave that is trying to trash you. Only then will you come out the
other side.
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