The Wave

The 10 knot east wind feels chilly as I start my paddle south from Sunshine Bay. I stay in close to the rocks. The swell does not seem that big, just a metre or so, but to the south, I can see some surprisingly large spumes of water washing off the coastal reefs. It's always like this sea kayaking, trying to paddle as close to the shore as you can without getting caught by a bigger wave.

Stories of kayakers mashed in rogue waves are multitudinous. We've all had narrow escapes and many have not managed to elude the big wave, breaking boats and bodies on rocks, reefs and beaches. No matter how many times I am almost caught, I always find myself gradually drifting in closer and closer to rocks and reefs pulled by an invisible elastic that stretches only so far before settling back edging closer and closer to the rocks.

Today I am alone, so I should be more cautious. After all, I am just out for a training paddle, to improve my forward stroke and get a bit fitter for the upcoming summer paddling season. I have decided to avoid going into all the little gauntlets and gutters as I paddle south and just stay a reasonable distance off the rocks, working on my forward stroke. But shortly after leaving, a gutter running behind a rocky reef lures me in.

I have not seen any bigger waves for a while and I wrongly judge the easterly reef will shelter the gutter from a southeasterly swell. I paddle in, nose first, and the first inkling of danger is immediate when a big rock suddenly appears beneath the bow of the kayak. A larger wave has sucked a rock reef dry and I glance behind me to see a bigger wave curling over, soon to break. If I get pushed forward I will smash onto the rocks at the head of the gutter. Back paddle hard, brace, and roll over the crest of the breaking wave, the kayak wobbles on the lip then falls into the trough. I want to get out of here, but another wave is coming in, the reef sucks dry again, back paddle, brace, this one is smaller and behind it, the next wave is smaller again.

Rapidly I sweep the boat around wishing I had edged in stern first or at the very least retracted the rudder to make turning faster. Out beyond the gutter I shake with adrenaline. Now the big washes smashing onto the reefs to the south make sense. I won't get in that close again, at least not today.