I intended to drive out to Sea Ranch and photograph an amazing deck that I paddled under once. But I got involved in trying to figure out a problem, and left a little late. The Sun might go down before I got there! When I got to my car, the slow leak in the right rear tire was getting critical, and I might have to abort. But fortunately, the gas station in Jenner had an air hose so I proceeded. But then the road crew was working on Highway 1, and the detour runs way up the hill and back. Everything was conspiring to prevent me from getting to Sea ranch before sunset! I kept going, hoping that I would get there in time, but gave up as I passed Stillwater Cove at around 20 minutes to sunset. I turned back and decided to just get some exercise in the water and watch the sunset here. But two inconsiderate people had parked their cars diagonally in the 4-car 15 minute loading zone, probably for much longer than 15 minutes. I had to park a few precious minutes away on the road to unload and change. By the time I got in the water the sun was already touching the horizon.
Mad at myself for starting late, furious at the flat tire, the road work and detours, the stupid people parked in the loading zone, I was not in a good mood to enjoy the sunset. It took 20 minutes of paddling into a gorgeous sky before I calmed down enough to notice. The moon was a thin crescent, practically new, and Venus was visible low in the sky right after sunset. The horizon turned a deep orange fading through the mythical green to a dark blue.
I paddled north behind a few somewhat scary rocks until I got to Ocean Cove. The swells were reported at 7 feet or more, but I got fairly close to shore a few times behind the rocks here. Somewhat scary means the waves broke around the rocks, but usually calmed back down again before getting to me. The wetsuit jacket strapped on the nose of the kayak stayed dry enough that it didn't need a rinse when I got home.
At Ocean cove, I turned out to sea and paddled a kilometer or two away from shore. Traveling west, I got to keep my eyes on the sky. Stillwater Cove is probably the calmest place on the Sonoma County coast to get in and out of the water, and I could probably land there in pitch darkness. But I wanted to get a little exercise, so I tuned south and paddled back at a brisk pace.
Just north of Stillwater, the point has a submerged component sticking far out to sea. I had noticed waves breaking far out there when I went behind the rocks of the point. Heading back, I had to go between (preferably) those submerged rocks. I recently learned a kayak term for these shallow areas where the larger waves break out at sea: "Boomers". Presumably named after what happens to you if one finds you before you notice it: BOOM! There was one over a kilometer out, and I headed towards it (so I knew where the point was) and then ducked just in front of it to avoid the smaller ones closer to shore. Then I headed straight into Stillwater Cove. When I got close to the shore, I paused in the still water to watch the sky for a few more minutes before I landed.
