Day 124, Mar 31 2010
Today, I would be left feeling badly shaken and very vulnerable, and yet the day had begun perfectly. I woke feeling strong. My lower back and hamstrings displayed none of the tightness or soreness often prevalent upon arising. The conditions were sublime, dreamlike even. The offshore breeze continued to diminish the swell but was lighter than the previous day when it had provided me with cause for concern. I farewelled Damon at 9:00am thinking that I might pull over someplace before Manukau Harbour and aim for Piha Beach, which was in excess of 50 kilometres away, the following day.
Today, I would be left feeling badly shaken and very vulnerable, and yet the day had begun perfectly. I woke feeling strong. My lower back and hamstrings displayed none of the tightness or soreness often prevalent upon arising. The conditions were sublime, dreamlike even. The offshore breeze continued to diminish the swell but was lighter than the previous day when it had provided me with cause for concern. I farewelled Damon at 9:00am thinking that I might pull over someplace before Manukau Harbour and aim for Piha Beach, which was in excess of 50 kilometres away, the following day.
My brother, just visible on the viewing platform at Sunset Beach, as I departed.
Paddling exceptionally smooth seas I was once again able to stay relatively close to a coastline that wavered little in its straightness. For the initial part of the journey very tall and steep sandy slopes or cliffs converged with a long stretch of beach.
Jagged.
At one stage I came across half a dozen surfers, a group of friends, who had driven their 4WD vehicles to a location with a small but perfect wave breaking on its shores. I was envious of the fun the uncrowded wave promised but pushed on.
A small but perfect fun wave and they had it all to themselves.
The beach soon disappeared and I was thankful for the passive conditions. On a normal day this stretch of coastline would appear uninviting and certainly be unapproachable with a landing impossible. Today it was spectacular and beautiful.
Specatcular and beautiful.
I was making good and easy progress when I approached the Manakau Harbour entrance with its northern shore clearly visible. At 2:00pm, after five hours paddling, I had less than twenty kilometres to go. Apart from some minor flurries of wind that at times came from behind and sometimes, more frustratingly, from head on, conditions remained excellent.
A different view if the swell had been running.
With no obvious landing spots and such good conditions, the idea of pushing onwards to Piha, seemed the logical thing to do. The Harbour entrance offered no obvious signs of danger as I pointed towards the opposite side. Of course it was a perfect opportunity for the easterly breeze to direct its energies out towards the open sea but nothing so strong to be a concern.
As I angled away from the near coastline towards the far side...
As I angled away from the near coastline towards the far side I was already beginning to congratulate myself. I thought myself only hours away from a well earned rest but I soon noticed that I was being carried outwards and was having to change my bearing to compensate.
For the first time I noticed some surf way out to sea though even now I still thought it to be too far away to be of concern. This slowly but surely began to change however as I noted the waves drawing nearer and nearer. I realised that I was being swept outwards despite no obvious signs on the water surface.
I increased my efforts although my energy levels after over five hours were at a low. I hurriedly consumed an energy bar and ‘power’ gel (in essence caffeine), understanding that I was now being drawn out to sea towards another breaking bar. The difference between here and Raglan was that it was mid-afternoon and my energy levels were close to being depleted and yet at this point in time I was had no choice but to look for more.
I was worried, very worried. Scared is when you’re riding the Big Dipper at a fairground. It’s scary but there’s very little chance of anything actually going wrong. Frightened is when the waves are big and there is a risk that I’ll be dumped and thrown into the sea, but at worst, be washed up onto the beach, feeling sorry for oneself and having to pick up the pieces. Worry for me is not knowing what might happen, wondering if I might soon find myself in a situation that will require a call for help. It’s a feeling that sits in the depths of the stomach making you feel sick. It did however provide resources that I’d thought were depleted.
I was now right on the edge of the surging surf that had previously been so far away. The current itself was creating its own swell. As the quickly flowing water surged outwards over a shallow reef or bar, it undermined that swell, causing waves to literally fall over themselves. In a very short time the waves that had earlier appeared well off to my left were all around me.
I was aware that I was making some progress (northwards), but this was mixed with an even greater deal of ‘outwards’. A capsize here would ensure that it was all out to sea. The very surf that so worried me however also offered me an opportunity. As each swell approached I was able to use its energy to surf against the current. Alarmingly for me, when it disappeared I was quickly being drawn back out again. I was acutely aware that at some point I would have nothing left to give.
The process repeated itself numerous times until I began to notice that I was slowly making my way across the line of surf and swell that marked the bar. As I surfed each wave I was slowly but surely edging across towards the opposite edge of the danger zone and then the turbulent conditions were suddenly all lying to my right.
For the first time I noticed some surf way out to sea though even now I still thought it to be too far away to be of concern. This slowly but surely began to change however as I noted the waves drawing nearer and nearer. I realised that I was being swept outwards despite no obvious signs on the water surface.
I increased my efforts although my energy levels after over five hours were at a low. I hurriedly consumed an energy bar and ‘power’ gel (in essence caffeine), understanding that I was now being drawn out to sea towards another breaking bar. The difference between here and Raglan was that it was mid-afternoon and my energy levels were close to being depleted and yet at this point in time I was had no choice but to look for more.
I was worried, very worried. Scared is when you’re riding the Big Dipper at a fairground. It’s scary but there’s very little chance of anything actually going wrong. Frightened is when the waves are big and there is a risk that I’ll be dumped and thrown into the sea, but at worst, be washed up onto the beach, feeling sorry for oneself and having to pick up the pieces. Worry for me is not knowing what might happen, wondering if I might soon find myself in a situation that will require a call for help. It’s a feeling that sits in the depths of the stomach making you feel sick. It did however provide resources that I’d thought were depleted.
I was now right on the edge of the surging surf that had previously been so far away. The current itself was creating its own swell. As the quickly flowing water surged outwards over a shallow reef or bar, it undermined that swell, causing waves to literally fall over themselves. In a very short time the waves that had earlier appeared well off to my left were all around me.
I was aware that I was making some progress (northwards), but this was mixed with an even greater deal of ‘outwards’. A capsize here would ensure that it was all out to sea. The very surf that so worried me however also offered me an opportunity. As each swell approached I was able to use its energy to surf against the current. Alarmingly for me, when it disappeared I was quickly being drawn back out again. I was acutely aware that at some point I would have nothing left to give.
The process repeated itself numerous times until I began to notice that I was slowly making my way across the line of surf and swell that marked the bar. As I surfed each wave I was slowly but surely edging across towards the opposite edge of the danger zone and then the turbulent conditions were suddenly all lying to my right.
Fragile, broken, despondent...
In front of me the water was devoid of surf even if the mushrooming surface still indicated a strong flow. I was however now north of the harbour entrance although as I noted after a quick look at my GPS, 2 ½ kilometres out to sea. The breeze here was also more prevalent than it had been close to shore and I now had to tackle a 15 knot headwind as I attempted to make it back towards the safety of shore. I was not yet free of worry.
Slowly making my way back towards shore.
My motor was hurting and there was still a good current that threatened to carry me back again if I relaxed my efforts. It was not until 3:20pm that I felt like I’d escaped the clutches of that horrible encounter. I’d struggled for nearly an hour-and-a-half. I was tired and felt extremely fragile. It was slow going and at 4:25pm I still had over 4 ½ km to go. At 5:15pm my bow touched the sand of Piha Beach and a shaken Gonz climbed out of the kayak.
Relief.
The 57.4km covered in 8 ¼ hours felt more like 157. If it had not been for the relief I was feeling, I’m sure it would have felt more like 257!
I received some help from tree guys who were returning from a day of fishing. They kindly lifted my laden kayak up on top of their own boat after putting it on its trailer and delivered me to the campground where I would have to think very carefully about my future… or to be more accurate, whether I wanted one.
I received some help from tree guys who were returning from a day of fishing. They kindly lifted my laden kayak up on top of their own boat after putting it on its trailer and delivered me to the campground where I would have to think very carefully about my future… or to be more accurate, whether I wanted one.
Help with the kayak would soon be at hand.
