My ride awaits in the above photo. At the end of this damaged pier one can make out BHI in the distance. The trip there would be 3 miles and take between half an hour and 45 minutes with the tide slack. We made it there in the predicted time, about 40 minutes. After coffee and a snack, and some monkeying around with a phone booth, we headed south to round the corner and paddle along BHI's South Beach.
The rollers were huge. Biggest I have ever seen at this location. We paddled along with them coming at us beam the entire 5 miles. With the wind coming from the south it was not too hard going but I got slapped around some by the waves as they broke. I really did my best to avoid anything breaking but was occasionally surprised. Still, we made it to Cape Fear by 1100 or so. We pulled out and took a break there. Watching Frying Pan Shoals bubble up and slap around. Feisty.
We knew we only had an hour to play or less due to the predicted bad weather arriving in the area around 3 pm. After the break we headed out into the Shoals. Let's just say, from here, things went south, or realistically "north."
My boat and I parted ways soon after getting stuck in "the zipper," from which there was no apparent exit for me. I swam, something sea kayakers try their darnedest to avoid. As a matter of fact swimming is so frowned upon that I hesitated to tell this story! I was unable to complete an effective roll with the waves crashing down on me, and the current grinding me between my boat and the sand bank. I tried twice, with great difficulty, but no success.
As Fish says, Southport is a place of "firsts" for me. First time I have ever failed to keep ahold of my boat. After I popped my spray deck, but while I still had ahold of the boat I was dragged over the sandy shoal face down. I felt my shoulder say "ENOUGH," and I let go. I had a brief glimpse of the boat riding up on a huge wave ahead of me, and then it was gone.
I did manage to keep ahold of my paddle. I was a quarter mile off shore. Not sure where my buds had gotten to and the noise from the shoals made the radio, and my whistle, ineffective. I swam for shore using my paddle, but I was being pulled north parallel to the shore at a surprising clip.
Out of the Frying Pan and into the fire!! The fire being the Gulf Stream Current that lends its energy to the Shoals in the first place. The Current glances off the North American continent here and begins its turn towards Europe. Holy smoke, I was thinking, I could get dragged out to sea!
I spent a hard 15 minutes paddling and made no head way at all. The whole time there was a man standing on shore, watching me. After about 5 minutes, he's looking at me and I'm looking right back, he pulls out his cell phone and begins a call. We are literally watching each other but separated by this water stream I am doing my damnedest to swim through at a right angle.
Then Ashley caught up to me, following the flash of my paddle blades. Right about then a tiny spotter-copter, orange and white, found me and begins making tight circles over me. Ah, the Coasties, may the universal order bless them.
Once she found me she spotted my boat. It had apparently exited the Shoals and was patiently waiting on the outside like a well-mannered horse. I just could not see it from my flat in the water eye-view. Woohoo! I had literally imagined it was heading for Spain like that NDK Explorer from the Outer Banks. She also found Fish and sent him to me, while she sprinted for my kayak. When she brought it back to me I have never been so glad to see it.
The little 'copter hovered overhead while I got back in my kayak. When we started paddling it circled a few more times and then finally headed off. I am certain the guy on the beach made the call that initiated the response of the folks in orange and white.
After the 15 or so minutes I spent swimming hard, really hard, I was beat. But I still had to complete an 8 mile paddle against the current and wind. We paddled hard and me and my buds managed the first 5 miles to the Sand Piper in an hour and a half. Really surprising we made it that quick. We took a break there, and I ate an apple and had a much needed water break. From there the wind and tide were pushing us along. The last three miles were a piece of cake in comparison to the rest of the day.
Ashley renamed the Shoals "Bangin' Zipper Shit!"
My buds got to enact a real, not staged, rescue on yours truly.
I learned that I need to practice my "combat roll," something that I did promptly after arriving home. And will do again and again.
We learn to walk while falling down as babies. We make mistakes that help us learn. We train for contingencies. As we say in our club at home "meh, nobody died." But I did come away a bit embarrassed. Yeah, that was embarrassing, to swim and then lose my boat. Better embarrassed, alive, and intact (!) as the alternatives are less than appealing. So that's that story.
Ashley and I took the Stevens out for dinner that night at, aptly, the Frying Pan Restaurant. And then we each packed up and headed in the direction of our homes Friday morning. The Epic finished its journey to Brian B and I got home and pooped out. What a great few days!
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