Duncans Landing to Arched Rock Beach, October 6th, 1995.

The swells at sea finally calmed down below 8 feet for the first time in weeks, so I went on a local trip on my way to work. I wanted to use the low waves to go take pictures of Elephant Rock north of Point Reyes. However, Point Reyes had a forest fire this week, and getting to the coast would be problematical. Instead, I stopped at Duncans Landing, which I have not launched from in a long time. The last time I launched from there, there was a zigzag trail and stairs down to the innermost beach of the cove. But in the storms early this year, a section of the trail was washed out. It wasn't a bad washout, and many people just walked around the missing parts of the trail, and forged a new trail over the debris piled up on the lower parts. Even when I am not kayaking, I do like to stop at the top of this trail when driving by here and look at the waves and rocks. So I was there one morning when a crew arrived from the State with a gasoline powered post hole drill and lumber. Good! I though, they are going to repair the trail. But the next time I came by, I found that all that labor, materials, equipment and expense was used to install a very hefty barrier across the top of the trail, with a sign saying "Trail Unsafe. Keep Off." If past experience at Fisk Mill Cove On this sunny morning, the view from this second trail was very inviting. The sun shone over my shoulder, down on to the beach and painted the water of the cove a vivid blue. Like the inner beach, there were calm waves in the cove here, and I got in the water with no anxieties or problems. South of here is an incredible rock garden with many rocks in the water to paddle around. Several times I have gone by here when the surf was too rough to go behind the rocks, and other times they have been covered with sleeping harbor seals, and I have avoided disturbing them. This time the waves were just barely calm enough, and I did not see many seals. There was only one rock I went the long way around to avoid seals, and after I was well past them, all but one of them jumped in the water anyway. But in general, it was an interesting and challenging trip for one so close to home.

I got to Gleasons Beach sooner than I had expected, and considered going back. But ahead in the mist, I could see through the arch at Arched Rock Beach, and decided to keep going. The tide was coming in, and I hoped that it would be high and calm enough to go through this arch. When I got to the arch, the water was higher and calmer than any other time I have been near this arch, and I was able to paddle up beside it, closer than I have ever been before. Up close, I saw that down by the water, this arch had a twist in the passage that might not allow a 3 meter kayak to pass through without jamming in the corner. So I fear I will never make it through this one. Just to show the rock that I didn't give up out of fear of the waves, I went completely around the rock, between it and some smaller rocks closer to shore. A large wave came by while I was back behind there, but it lost energy in front of me, swept all the way around behind the arched rock, and broke behind me giving me a push in the direction I was already going.

When I paddled back out to sea a little way, I could see Duncans Point, and a little tiny yellow smudge that was my VW Bus. I had come much farther than I had though, and had a ways to go to get back. But it was a sunny morning, with no wind to speak of, and the swells were still 7 feet or less. The morning was so sunny, I had to wear my sunglasses for the first half of this trip. But as I went around the arched rock, I took off my sunglasses, carefully wrapped their neck cord around them, and put them in one of the pockets of my life vest. But today I had forgotten my felt hat, and without it, the bright sky and reflections off the water were still bright in my eyes. So I went to put my sunglasses back on, and they were not in my pocket! Either, I had missed the pocket, or I had snagged the neck cord and pulled them back out. Either way, they had slipped quietly into the water and sunk without a sound.

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