Disaster!

Day 91, Feb 26 2010
The wind had howled all night and I wondered during the waking moments whether it was a continuation of yesterday’s strong north-wester or had the forecast south-easterly that I was banking to carry me up the coast, kicked in. I had it in my mind that the latter could carry me over 65km to Opunake if I gave myself the time.

When the 5:33am weather report suggested once more that the south-easterly would be prevalent I wasted no time in rising and hauling my gear and kayak down to the boat ramp despite the drizzle. It was only just getting light as I pushed out into the flow and made my way to the river mouth and its double breakwater wondering what lay ahead of me.

Ready to go.

As I approached, my initial thought was that whilst still messy but that it was manageable. I began slowly keeping my strength in reserve. As I progressed the waves increased in size to a degree that had not been obvious before. They were relentless with only moments between each wash and I was soon digging deep and leaning back to climb the steep walls of foam. My momentum was slowing however with no respite offered and seeing the waves suck and pitch at the entrance I realised that an exit was beyond me.

I gave it a go. The breakwater's southern boundary is just visible beneath the waves.

I had no choice but to attempt to bring the kayak cumbersome kayak around in the narrow confines of the two moles and without time to prepare I was unceremoniously dumped, very conscious of the nearby cement walls towards which I was headed.

I fumbled and could not immediately find the skirt’s strap that would allow me to escape from the upside down cockpit. I made the mistake of attempting to lift my head for a gasp of air but failed to find the surface and felt a moment of panic before relaxing, slowing down and seeking out the handle that with a tug allowed me to separate and surface.

I righted the flooded kayak and part-paddled and part-swam it to a small sandy landing to take stock and pump out the water. I realised that I should have jumped out at this spot and reconnoitred before attempting what I had. I ran across to the adjacent beach outside the breakwater but it was not going to offer me an opportunity to get out beyond the surf.

I landed on the small sandy beach and took stock. It did not look good.

I knew that my only option was to paddle back from where I’d come and that today I was going nowhere. I was gutted after all the effort I’d put in for an early start and my hopes for a long and exciting surf up the coast but there was nothing else to do.

Having emptied all the water I climbed back in and paddled out a short way with a view to rounding the pylons that marked where a jetty once ran before the construction of the breakwater. I had to round them to return to the boat ramp. Just as I was turning a wave collected me. I was ready however and lent into it as I had recently learned and avoided another capsize.

Elation quickly turned to horror however as my sideways surfing kayak headed straight for the pylons I’d been hoping to round. There is no way to steer a kayak being washed in as it was and I could only watch as I collected two pylons broadside and was brought to an immediate and shuddering halt.

It was extremely fortunate that one pylon impacted in front of the cockpit and the other behind because as soon as the kayak’s progress was halted the continuing wave ensured that we overturned for the second time that morning.

Moments before launching with the pylons that I wished to round clearly visible.

On this occasion it did not take me long to climb out, and after first allowing a second and third wave to press the hull against the two structures against which it was temporarily wedged, I was able to push the kayak off the pylons and into the water that I had been hoping to reach before the impact.

I made it to the boat ramp but soon discovered some serious damage to the hull. A big flap of the exterior’s gel coat could be lifted from the Kevlar where the rear impact of the pylon had occurred and a structural crack showed on the opposite side. The impact had occurred in line with the rear bulkhead and peering inside I noted that it too had cracked where it met the hull.

The impact zone.

A serious crack on the side opposite to that which hit the pylon.

The kayak was going nowhere and with this realisation I actually smiled. I had felt worse before the crash when realising that the surf would hold me hostage to Patea. Now, the reason was different and for some reason easier to cope with.
Thought of this being a fitting end to my trip went through my mind. At best it would take days to repair if, and it was surely a big if in a small town, to find someone to be able to do them. It occurred to me that the hull’s integrity may have been compromised and that repairs would not be possible even if I could find help.
I continued to smile whilst beginning to think about how I would get back to Auckland and what I would do with the damaged craft. Was it relief that I’d not been hurt that made me smile or was it the thought of spending time at the local café drinking coffees and reading the newspapers whilst waiting for possible repairs, or was it the thought that my endeavours had reached a conclusion? Maybe it was for all those reasons.
By the time I’d returned to the campground, put up my tent, and had a hot shower it was 11:00am, it was six hours since I’d woken in preparation for a day I’d hoped would see me cover in excess of 60km. I had no idea when I woke that I would find myself in tis situation.
I walked the couple of kilometres to town and walked into the workshop of the general engineers, McCarty & Hunger Ltd. In the small town it offered me possibly my only hope. John (Hunger), Cameron and Deborah heard my tale and began discussing possible options before making some calls on my behalf. I had not hoped for as much so was very thankful.
After a few calls they had located a bloke back at Wanganui who said he could do it, and that he would do it that afternoon! Of course I had no vehicle to drive the 50+ kilometres and after some discussion it was decided that a trip to Wanganui could be justified by taking a load of scrap metal there to the recyclers.

The truck.

The trailer.

At 2:00pm my damaged kayak was being strapped on top of a load of scrap for the trip to Wanganui. I was off for a road trip and Cameron turned out to be a great companion. We arrived at West Coast Panel Paint & Customs where I was introduced to Garret. Despite his specialty being hot rods he took a look at said he’d repair it overnight. Wow!

The yard.

Cameron was happy to drive me back in the morning so after dropping off the scrap metal we returned to Patea. On the way back I noted a very choppy sea and wondered if it had all been for the best whilst realising that my journey was not yet over.