The waves had been 9 to 10 feet all this week, and I was unable to go out. Finally, on Saturday I decided to go out and practice surfing in bigger waves. I have noticed that large waves tend to break around Duncans Point into the cove. The waves are refracted around the point, and only break near the shore. By traveling away from the point, I could paddle over the waves, and by traveling close to the rocks I could ride the breakers back in. And if I got in trouble, all the possible direction vectors would point away from the rocks. Because I would be close to shore and behind a point most of the time, I could do this trip in the afternoon when the rising wind would not be an issue. Then after all that planning for rough weather, the waves perversely calmed down to only 6 feet high Saturday afternoon. I decided to paddle around Duncans Point anyway.
There is a big rock off the north side of Duncans Point, called the Hogback, which has a long narrow crack, only 4 meters wide, through the middle of it. I stopped to look at this crack from the road before I got in the water. The only reason for trying to go through this crack would be for the thrill of the ride. If I cannot go surfing, perhaps I will paddle through this crack. It looked calm enough, so I put on the full wetsuit, got in the water, and paddled around the point to look at it from the sea. There is a narrow space between the point and the Hogback that has a rough little beach on it, perhaps ten meters wide. The waves in this space were choppy, but I was safely able to paddle in and sit in front of the crack through the Hogback. I watched the waves for a while.
I could wait for calmer weather to go through this crack. I could watch the waves, hope that I picked a calm period of time, and charge through. But recently I have decided that I like the idea of paddling slowly through places like this. If I don't think I can deal with whatever the waves might dish out, then I shouldn't be in there. A mad dash would only measure my luck, or perhaps skill at predicting the waves. So I slowly drifted into the crack while I watched the waves to see what they did in here.
The nose of the kayak was perhaps two kayak-lengths inside the crack when a large wave came through. In the confined space in the middle, it rose up into a wall of water. It grabbed the kayak and surfed me backwards out of the crack at great speed, like a watermelon seed spurting out from between your fingers. It was probably better than the best ride I have ever had when actually trying to surf in the kayak. I just wish I had been facing forward to enjoy it. I traveled out of the slot, and kept going diagonally towards the little beach, backwards at full speed. I started to worry about landing on the beach or hitting the rocks 30 meters on the other side, so I paddled hard and finally broke over the weakening wave.
I paddled back to the opening and looked in for a while longer. I saw another large wave come in and watched it break near the other end, creating one of those near vertical walls of water too far from the exit to safely ride it back out. I'll have to save the Hogback for some other day. I paddled back around Duncans Point. I went as far south through the rock garden here as I could without disturbing the basking harbor seals. It felt like I had not been out on the water very long, so I made two circuits of the cove to get a little exercise for my arms before I exercised my legs carrying the kayak back up the trail to the parking lot on top of the cliff.
