There were a number of calm days on the ocean this week,but I wanted to go abalone diving. I have resisted doing this by myself so I waited until the weekend when my brother Paul could join me. Unfortunately the water got a lot rougher on the weekend. There were 10 foot swells on Saturday with a prediction of slightly better on Sunday with 8 foot swells. Worse yet, when we got up on Sunday morning the Weather Underground telnet page was reporting 10 feet at Bodega Bay. The surrounding reports were lower, so I hopped that this was a glitch in the measurements. On the drive out to Russian Gulch Beach we looked down at the waves from the side of Highway One and it looked like we could get into the water. So we suited up and started hauling equipment out to the beach. I recalled that when abalone season ended in November I sighed with relief because I did not have to lug a weight belt out with me for a few months. Our plan was to go north just a couple of kilometers to the place I found lots of abalone last year, get a few abalone, and come back in time to go to my mom's house for Easter Sunday dinner. Because of the change from Standard Time to Daylight Savings Time, we got started an hour later than we thought we would.
I coached Paul on how to get the kayak through the breakers. Then I walked into the water with him, gave my brotherly advice on when to go for it, and gave the kayak a shove when he got in, to help him on his way. I think the shove helped more than anything else. Then I had to sit and rest for a minute before making my attempt. The first try was unsuccessful when the kayak swung around in front of me just before I wanted to pull it over a a breaker and start out. But on the second try I hit a calm time in the waves and paddled out with no large waves or other problems. When I caught up with Paul, he said he had been queasy when he first got in the water, but was having fun now.
The sun had come out at home and was coming out on the beach when we launched. But as we headed north, we paddled into an area of heavy fog. I conservatively went out to sea around most of the rocks to avoid trouble and choppy water for Paul. The result was that we could not see the shore very well through the fog as we traveled. I kept pulling ahead, but figured Paul was going slow, so I stopped often for him to catch up and waited for him to have time to rest also. So I didn't worry that we had been out for a while and had not found my abalone diving spot yet. When I finally did start to wonder where it was, we were passing a small point that was not the spot, but it was followed by a long stretch of rocky beach that shouldn't have been there. I told Paul if we accidentally found our way to Fort Ross Reef (14 kilometers north of where we started) I was going to be very embarrassed. Not long after I said that, I saw a rock in the water, and went ahead to look at it. As I feared it was a rock that I call the "half way rock" half way to Fort Ross Reef. In the fog, we had accidentally gone about four kilometers past our goal. Paul had remembered to bring his watch, and it was only two hours since we left, so we had made excellent time. Like the bumper sticker sticker that says "I'm lost but I'm making record time". Paul was feeling queasy in the water again and was not having a good time when we turned back.
On the trip back the fog lifted a little bit and I recognized the spot as we approached it. Unfortunately, the waves were coming from a more northern angle than usual, and were defeating the calm harbor behind my "picnic rock". I checked the marine buoy report on my new radio and heard that Bodega Bay was reporting only 6 foot swells. We could have landed if we timed it right to avoid the larger waves, but then we would have to dive from the shore. We could see that two other hardy groups of people had hiked down here from Vista Point and were diving for abalone near "my" favorite spot. Paul was not feeling well, and was not sure if he wanted to dive. I told him I would try it, so he should tie his kayak off to the kelp while I got on my equipment. Before I was ready to go, Paul got the kayak tied up in time for a large wave to tug down on the bow line and roll him out of the kayak. Once in the water he felt better, since he is more used to being in the water than on top of it. So he put on his equipment and we both went diving. I had trouble equalizing my ears, and by that I estimate we were diving in around six meters of water. When I got my ears cleared and could dive down to the bottom, I discovered that the visibility was terrible. I found the bottom by bumping my goggles on it once, and could see nothing farther than 20 cm or so in front me. After trying to dive only 4 or 5 times, I gave up. I got back in my kayak and took off all my diving equipment. Paul stuck it out for a while longer, but got sick again, so he quit. He said "Abalone diving is supposed to be fun, and I'm not having any fun so I quit"!
When we stared back, Paul told me that I didn't want to know what time it was. It was 2:20 PM, and this little expedition was supposed to be over in time to get home, clean up, and drive to my mom's house by 2:30 PM. We were hours late, and Marty was probably worried sick. I had not called my phone company to arrange a marine calling card yet for my Marine VHF radio, but I built up my courage to press the transmit button for the first time. There is an obscure note in the FCC form that "pleasure craft can use channel 9 to initiate calls". But do the marine operators listen for telephone calls on this channel? I tried asking for a marine telephone operator twice on this frequency, with no response. So I built up my courage again to try asking on the emergency channel 16 once, and also got no response. I don't know if I am using the wrong channels or not saying the right things. I'll have to call up the phone company and find out how it works. Although nobody heard me, I heard the Coast Guard traffic synopsis and a few fishermen talking to each other about how many fish they caught.
When we got back to the beach, I coached Paul again on the best way to land. He was not feeling well, and said he was just going to keep paddling until he got there. I told him that was actually a way that had worked pretty well for me. I held back so we wouldn't run in to each other and let him go in first. The waves generally looked pretty good for a landing. I watched one wave break under him close to shore and he backpedaled a little and let it go ahead of him. Then as he started paddling again, the next wave rose up and hid him from my view. I figured that one would get him to shore one way or another. When I could see him again, he was riding the breaker up the beach sideways and still in the kayak! Then he got out in the backwash and fell down in the water when the next wave came. I headed in and just missed catching a ride on a small wave. I tried to follow it in but got stalled in the backwash. So I stepped out into water only up to my calves and started pulling the kayak up the beach. The next wave came along and zoomed the kayak along next to me. With my diving weights in the back of the kayak and nobody sitting in the middle it was able to ride the wave like a surfboard, pointing straight up the beach. Instead of sticking in the sand, the nose rose up until there was a meter or two of it hanging in mid air out of the breakers. I wished I had stayed in it for the ride.
We made one trip back to the car to carry the diving equipment and to try and call Marty on Paul's cellular phone. No reception on that this far from civilization either. So we went back for the now empty kayaks and hauled them back to the car. We had to drive to Jenner and call on a pay phone to apologies to Marty and then to Mom for being late. While I was on the phone, I realized that my watch was still on "daylight wasting" time and it was even an hour later than I thought it was. We didn't get home until 4:30 PM and dinner was held for us until 5:30 PM. (Usually big family dinners are early in the afternoon, 3 or 4:00pm).
