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A few weeks ago I traveled to Charleston, South Carolina with my school’s outdoors program to surf kayak. I had never been surf kayaking before, but Tim, our kayaking instructor, made it sound quite simple—deceptively so. According to Tim, all one had to do was paddle out, catch a wave, and ride it in. What Tim forgot to mention were all of the challenges along the way.
As soon as I was in the ocean, it became clear to me that the turbulent waters I was paddling in were not the placid pool I had practiced in. Fighting both current and incoming wave, I finally paddled out to meet my fellow kayakers. As soon as a wave was upon me, I paddled to catch it and—suddenly the world was very cold and wet and tasted of salt. I had flipped. I was now upside down, strapped into a kayak with no air to breath and at the mercy of the sea. I flailed around under the water, squirming in my kayak, trying to rip my lower half from the death trap that I realized I had been tricked into. After a few moments, which always seem much longer when you are deprived of oxygen, I became coherent enough to remember that I could, in fact, pull my skirt free of the kayak and then swim to the surface. Not a second after this marvelous revelation, my head broke the surface of the water and I gulped down the tangy sea air. The salt water burned my eyes and for a moment made my surroundings indistinguishable, which would account for the fact that I did not see my kayak, now weighing 400 pounds and full to the brim with water being propelled by a wave in my general direction. The kayak crashed into my shins as the water rushed past me.
Feeling utterly frustrated, I dragged my kayak to the shore and proceeded to drain the water from it. I was ready to quit right there, but something in me was just too stubborn, so I paddled out again to meet the waves. The currents were even stronger on my second attempt and I spent near to five minutes spinning in slow circles, cursing Poseidon for his spiteful nature. After finally muscling out of my personal whirlpool, I met another wave. This time I was ready. I paddled through it and leaned into the wave. Sweet relief spread through my body. I enjoyed the sensation only momentarily, however, before my head was brushing against the sandy bottom once again. This time, I pulled my skirt immediately and floundered to the surface, dragged my kayak to shore, and tried again.
After nearly an hour of similar exercise, I had become quite friendly with the ocean floor, but I had at least learned to push off of the sand and right myself instead of having to eject from my kayak. But now, with each stroke of my paddle through the waves my muscles screamed in protest, and a part of me had become accustomed to being tossed around in the tides. That same portion of my mind whispered, “You can’t do it…just give up”, destroying my determination and weakening my will to continue. I told myself, “Just one more go,” and pushed past the aches and the doubt. The waves were just as rough as before, but I managed to navigate through them. I spotted a wave and turned back to the beach to intercept it. I paddled, pushing against the water with all of the energy I had left. I felt my kayak being swept up by the wave as the water threw me forward. The exhilaration of being thrust toward the beach surge in me as the swell surged forward and deposited me neatly near the shore. I was so thrilled that I flipped myself, but I recovered quickly. I taught myself self that I was able to conquer my mind and body and even events, such as crashing tsunamis that I had no control over.
 spage · Wed Nov 29, 2006 @ 01:27am · 0 Comments |
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