South Padre once again… launching and landing in surf

So I went to the Island yesterday. Only kayaked for about an hour (left late, due to previously-procrastinated tasks), but it was a good hour. The beach was nice, and nearly empty (one family and one fisherguy), and the waves seemed very manageable. In fact, I was a little disappointed.

I was quite intimidated, however, once I got down nose-to-nose with the waves. A five-foot breaker seems like no big deal until you’re in a boat that only puts your head about 2 1/2 feet above the water, and you’ve got the task of getting over or through that wave. I practiced launching and landing, and the latter is definitely more challenging. I got flipped once (and didn’t even try to roll; just did a wet exit… stupid), but then did 3 more launches (followed by landings, of course). Good experience. By the end, I felt comfortable enough to sit in the breakers and just play lazily for a while. It’s very soothing to let the waves roll under or around you, and be concerned with nothing more than the physical handling of the boat.
There’s a joy in doing something successfully. I got broached a few times, and the high-brace-into-the-wave technique that I had studied (but never tried) is wonderfully effective at preventing being flipped. Toward the end of the session, I got myself broadsided on purpose by a largish breaker, just to see. It was a cool sensation to be holding the boat upright in front of the crest with a paddle in the water behind the crest of the wave, while being pushed (fast!) sideways, about 20 yards toward shore.

I tried surfing a few times, too (on the smaller of these already-small waves), instead of the more rational, patient approach to landing. Wow. Surfing is kind of difficult. At least for me. It’s an all-or-nothing game, almost. Like downhill skiing, or freeriding; if you go slowly enough, you have a little control, but if you let fly, you’d better know what you’re doing.

Of course, the usual penalty for messing up is usually just a swim and gear retrieval. Not like the certain broken bones to be had on a black diamond mogul field.

Past the breakers is an interesting place to be, emotionally. Land is close, but it seems very far. The swells are not terribly dangerous (like very slow rollercoasters), but they’re impressive and more menacing than the little breakers, farther in. They imply an unstoppable, non-negotiable force, right under your tiny boat. I never went more than 1/4 or *maybe* 1/2 mile out, but it seemed like much farther. The breaker zone was a strong psychological dividing point for me.

On the way back, I snapped the pic of the little guy you see at the beginning of this post. My best guess is that he’s a Red-Shouldered Hawk, but I’m not sure. If you have info on this topic, please share.

I also took another couple of photos, although clearly not as cool.

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