Stump Beach to Horseshoe Cove October 13th, 1994


I got a bit of a late start, and it was a sunny morning around 8:00am when I got to the beach. I was dismayed by the whitecaps on the ocean on my drive up, and a report on the radio of gusty winds up to 25mph. Stump beach is a small sandy beach at the end of a channel through the rock. The waves come in and have to travel over 300 meeters past rock walls to get to the beach. The waves were a lot higher than the last time I was here. I walked along the south side of the channel and watched the waves for a while. Every once in a while, three giant waves would come in that seemed to break the entire distance of the channel. I considered going home and doing this some other day. I considered going farther north and just driving around scouting for places to get in the water for other trips. Every once in a while, the waves would calm down and it would look passable... If I timed this right, I could make it. If only it wasn't a windy morning (the whitecaps did not look so bad right now). If I was in my wetsuit already, I would give it a try. Hey, I drove 45 minutes to get here this morning, I have to go! I went down to the beach to watch a train of big waves come in from 6 feet above the water. (I'll have to actually do it from 3 feet above the water -- much more frightening). Books on doing things in the ocean tell you to stop at the shore and watch the waves for 20 minutes to get a better idea about what they will do. This is 20 minutes in which to loose your nerve. I walked back up to the bus unable to decide. What am I afraid of? The worst thing that can happen is I'll get wiped out in the waves and ignobly washed back up on shore. (OK, the WORST thing is I could get thrown out of the kayak, hit over the head by it on the next wave, and washed up against the rocks, but that's fairly low probability -- THAT doesn't seem to be what I fear). The highest probability event is getting slammed in the face a bunch of times with wet sea water. Now that's REALLY frightening!

I got to the bus, and the thought of getting into my wetsuit made my knees feel weak. Now I really have to try this anyway. I got into my wetsuit and went back to the beach with the kayak. By the time I had my gloves on, the paddle assembled, and the bunghole stoppered, the entire channel looked reasonable. I walked out through the breakers on the beach and waited for two more medium sized waves to go under me, then got on and headed out. No problems until I neared the end of the channel, and then 3 big waves came in. I stayed to the left of the first one, which did not break on that side until I passed over it. The next one broke in front of me, but the breakers didn't push me back, they seemed to slide back over the top of the wave. The third one was the same, and then I was out! I didn't even get a face full of water on the entire assault! Now I was safe at sea, and the only question was, did I want to go the entire 3 miles to the next cove? I figured once I got started, I'd become determined enough to go the whole distance even against the wind, and this is what happened.

The waves were too big near the shore, I'd never get that kind of sightseeing done, so I went straight across to the next point. The waves got pretty big half way across, so I assume there was a shallow spot there. These big waves were often breaking out at sea, but I discovered that they were absolutely no problem if I was facing into them. The breakers slid over the tops of the waves as I rode over them, and did not try to push me back. Well, not push me back any more than the waves and wind were doing without whitecaps. Nothing much else happened out to Horseshoe Cove, which doesn't look like it has any beach access. I'll have to come down from someplace farther north to complete the next leg of the trip. The trip back to the beach was more work than it should have been with the wind and waves at my back. All those large waves with breakers were very little help. I've decided that pointing the bow where I want to go and not looking behind me, this is the way to deal with frightening waves out at sea. They are never as helpful as they look, never as scary as they look, just slide under me by the time they get to me. So looking just upsets me for no good reason.

Most of the trip back, I was accompanied by a sea gull. It flew up to me and practically hovered over me the first time. I waved my paddle at him, but he knew I couldn't reach him, and landed nearby. It was nice being able to see how fast I was moving by how fast he slid behind me. He did this a bunch of times, flying up and landing near me and watching me paddle away. I assume he was thinking "Humans are dumb, they toss the best part of the fish back into the ocean, perhaps this human will feed me".

When I got back to the channel in the rock, I got that weak feeling in the knees again. This weak feeling is a survival trait: It's mother nature's way of convincing you not to do something foolish. But it was too late for that! I have to land anyway! What I need from mother nature right now is not weakness, but an adrenaline rush! But fortuneately, like the breaking waves out at sea, the first few breakers that went under me slipped up and back over the waves, and did not give me the ride of my life as I feared. I made it most of the way to shore without incident until I got less than 100 meters from the beach. I made the mistake of looking back, and saw one of those really big waves breaking already, even though there was a smaller unbroken one in front of it. The small one got there first, and I desperately tried to ride it in, but it was too small. The wall of breakers caught up with me, and picked up the back of the kayak, like it was going to tip me over, but that didn't happen. I held my paddle in the steering position and pushed like crazy to keep the nose pointed to shore, and it worked! The nose came up as the breakers weakened going up the beach, and I zoomed the last 50 meters and slid right onto the sand. A successful (and dry faced) trip all around!


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All text and images Copyright © 1994 by Mike Higgins / contact