A downwind paddle? Good idea. Jeans? Bad idea.
By Glen Harris
All the blood feels like it leaves my limbs and heads to the core. I am left feeling rubbery.
“Want to do a downwinder?” asks Dave.
I blew my knee mid-winter and have been hobbling around on crutches for a month and a half. Sitting in a kayak and paddling downwind from Thornbury to Northwinds Beach is something I can actually do.
“Sure!”
At the put in, I watch Dave pull on his new steamer wet suit. I’m wearing jeans and a wool sweater.
“Here,” Dave says, “Put on this shorty just in case.”
I do, and put the jeans and wool sweater over top. We have the wind at our back and we’re off.
Riding the swells, the boat surges forward. I look over my shoulder for the next set. It’s good times. It feels great to be out on the water in the moment. The day is a beauty. There’s still some snow on the slopes, a warm breeze, and a bluebird sky. The ice on the Bay has been gone for a while.
The wind picks up as we cruise along the shoreline. Rolling waves start breaking. I paddle out to the deeper water where the rolling swells are easier to handle.
Dave stays in close; he’s having a good time. His whistle blows and he waves me in to the action.
My inner voice pipes up.
“Don’t do it, buddy: stay out and avoid those breakers.”
Could Dave even see me? I keep losing him behind waves. It’s eerie being far out on my own.
Fuck it. I lean forward and paddle towards shore. A big set picks up my boat and I surf down the backside feeling wobbly. Five more of these and I’ll be on shore. I’ll hitch to Northwinds and call it a day.
A huge set picks me up and I accelerate down the wave. My inexperience becomes evident. This downwinder is a bad idea. As my nose veers into the leeward side of the wave I tumble into the Bay. Watery silence. White foam. I roll out.
The cold is shocking, instantly bone-numbing. I try to pull myself up on top but can’t. Survival mode is on. My lifejacket has a whistle and I blow it. All the blood feels like it leaves my limbs and heads to the core. I am left feeling rubbery. Things slow down.
I hold onto the frigid, water-filled kayak bobbing in the waves.
I’m in the water for ten minutes before Dave paddles through the waves. Fully freaked out and trembling, I abandon my boat and hold onto Dave’s stern and he tows me to shore as the sets crash down on us.
Safe. Alive and in shock I hitch a ride to my car, drive back, load it up with Dave and the gear, drop him off, get into warm dry clothes, and make it just in time to pick up my daughter at school. She runs into my arms and we go home.
“How was your day?” my wife asks while we shuffle about preparing dinner, me with my crutches.
“I went for a paddle and fell in the Bay.”
“How was that?”
“Cold.”
I don’t mention the iPhone that was in the pocket of my jeans.
