Goat Rock Arch, May 16th 1995

Two kayak outings ago, I brought my dad's old beat-up 110 camera with me on a paddle, and discovered that keeping it in a waterproof bag was not good enough. Every time I got it out to use it, I dripped and smeared water on it from my hands. In rough water I risked dropping it in my lap and really getting it wet. So I bought one of those self- contained waterproof (down to 12 feet underwater) Kodak "recyclable" 35mm cameras. It has been burning a hole in my pocket since I got it, but of course the weather has been terrible for weeks, and I've been unable to use it. Today the swells got down to 6 or 7 feet, and I wanted to go out. But work had kept me up until 2:00am, so getting up at 6:00am was not an option. Besides (rationalization) if taking pictures is the goal, I want the sun higher in the sky. I slept a reasonable 6 hours or so and got out around 10:00am. The wind was really strong, I would have guessed over 20 mph, but the weather radio said that none of the nearby buoys were reporting more than 15. The prediction was for more wind and worse waves the rest of this week, so I decided to go out on a short trip to photograph the arch at Goat Rock. It is less than a kilometer from the parking lot, and I can fight my way back against the wind for that short distance.

The waves really were fairly mild. I saw a few large waves come in and chose a path where the waves looked the least troublesome. When I hit the water, however, the big waves stayed away long enough for me to get out to sea with no problems. I went straight out to sea past the point on goat rock, until I was paddling directly into the wind, and then turned south towards the arch. I wanted to be far enough out that the wind from the northwest would not blow me against the rocks near shore without some warning. As I turned south, a pair of porpoises swam towards shore across my path. Paddling across the wind and waves was a little exciting, but I felt comfortable and in little danger of being knocked over by the big waves.

When I got close to the arch, I started taking pictures so I would have a series of them going through. This is probably the slowest I have ever gone through this arch. Usually I build up courage, wait for mild waves, drift closer and closer, then CHARGE through before the big waves come back. This time, I stopped several times, wound the camera, dropped my paddle, rotated in the wind and waves, took a picture, and then paddled northwest to make up the distance I was blown off course. I did this right into the arch, until I was in the shadow and it was too dark to take another picture (rationalization). Only then did I start paddling like mad to get out the other side. The wind was VERY STRONG going through the arch, and helped push me through.

After comming out the far side, I turned around and took a picture back through the arch. I considered going back through again, or just goung around. I paddled closer and closer, taking a few pictures, until I might as well just go the rest of the way. Inside the arch, I found that wind again, and discovered I could not take any more pictures, because stopping for even a moment would get me blown back out again. Now this trip was REALLY the slowest time through the arch, despite paddling at near maximum effort. Back out of the arch, the wind calmed down, but this was definatly the hard slow leg of the trip. I paddled at a reasonable but strenuous rate, and made slow progress documented by the paralax of rocks between me and the beach. It occured to me that I could pay a lot of money to work up a sweat on a rowing machine, walker, or stair climbing machine and make even less progress. This way I saw more interesting things while I was working at practically standing still. Like when I did get back into the wind- shadow of Goat Rock, I saw a harbor seal dozing in the mild water near the rock. His nose was pointing straight out of the water, and he never seemed to notice me. After a minute, he quietly disapeared under the water. But then a smaller seal, perhaps one of this years new pups, followed me curiously the last 200 meters to shore.

From a distance, I saw some big waves breaking violently in the formerly calm spot I had launched from. But as I approached shore, the waves calmed down, even as the wind wipped around the shore side of Goat Rock and blew spray directly into my face. I watched the calm shore, too far to make a run for it yet, and assumed that the big waves were saving their energy to sneak up and pound on me as I landed. The shore got closer and closer and the big waves never arrived. I considered waiting for them, but just kept slowly paddling until I slid right up on the beach like into a safe harbor. The whole trip actualy took only 1 hour.

I friendly man (who lives in Sebastopol) watched me come in and asked a few questions. One question was my age, and he was astonished at the answer. He told me I was the youngest person of that age he had ever met. Despite the hard work paddling into the wind I was feeling great, and told him that I was going to live forever, unless of cource I bang my head into a rock or get bitten by a shark.