καταστροφή / disastre
Two winters ago on a windy day I capsized a small sailboat with my friend Paul.
Well, Paul and I capsized a boat again. We were on Paul's folding kayak this time, trying to shoot through the cave at Emerald Cove in La Jolla. The cave is one of many caves that dot the cliffs at La Jolla Bay, but it's special in that it cuts through the base of a small, pointed headland, and if the tide is high enough you can paddle small watercraft from one side of the cave to the other. We saw people paddle into a narrow mini-fjord, and just before they hit the end of the fjord, they'd make a sharp left turn into the cave, and emerge on the other side. There were 1-2 foot swells, and they surged through the cave but rarely seemed to break within the length of the cave.
Just before we got to Emerald Cove, we had come upon another large cave in the cliffs. This cave was large -- the opening area formed a 50-foot diameter cavern, and behind it you saw two separate caves leading to small, dark beaches. In the outer cavern the water seemed deep, and in the middle was a natural pillar coming out of the water and reaching to the ceiling. I was a bit concerned about waves surging or even crashing through the cavern area, but before I had even finished saying Whoa Whoa Whoa, Paul said Let's go and steered the kayak into the cavern. We tried to circumnavigate the main opening area by going around the pillar, but instead made a right-angled turn right into the side of the cave wall. That didn't register in my mind at the time as a lesson about the boat's turning radius.
Just after that we came upon Emerald Cove. We didn't really know anything about the cave there until we paddled right up to it and other kayakers shooting through the cave. We sat the mouth of the fjord watching two kayakers go into the cave. I was tempted and thought we might be able to make it but was hesitating to commit. As we sat there the surge of the swells slowly pulled us into the fjord, and, well, I'm not sure exactly how it happened but I heard Paul yell something like Charge Ho! or Damn the Torpedoes or something, and I found myself paddling straight into the fjord. At the end of the fjord we attempted to make a sharp, left turn into the cave opening, but made only 1/3 of the required turn and ran into a cliff wall. At that point a swell surged through the cave and hit us diagonally-broadside and the kayak tipped at about 45 degree angle.
A funny thing about disasters is that time slows down as it happens. In that slowed moment, mothers lift cars by themselves to free their babies pinned under cars, policement dodge bullets aimed at them, and young men dash into burning buildings to pull out sleeping victims. In my case, sitting in the front of the kayak tilted at 45 degrees, with a wall of water pushing on the left and a cliff face to my right, I wondered, Could we balance ourselves? Could we push off the bottom with oars to prevent capsizing? What would happen if we did flip? Is Paul deftly making emergency maneuvers to save the moment? When that slowed moment was over, time returned to its normal pace and I felt the boat lose its balance and spin upside down. I found myself standing in shoulder-deep water, and when I looked behind me I saw Paul swimming away towards the beach.
Actually, Paul was right there. We spun the boat right-side up and it was hopelessly filled to the brim with water. We pushed the boat to the boulder-strewn beach, and tried to pulled out over the boulders. The boat felt like a thousand pounds and we just could not haul it out over slippery, moss-covered boulders. A folding kayak is structured like a tent -- a (waterproof) canvas skin is stretched tightly around a frame made of aluminum poles and plastic spacers. Imagine a small tent that is completely filled with water, and trying to haul it out through breaking waves! As we floundered on the boulders, we were hit by a series of 2-3 foot breaking waves which flipped the boat again and knocked us around, and I was afraid the boat would come down on one of our legs and break it! One big wave knocked Paul way up the boulders, and as it retreated it sucked me and the boat a bit off the beach. At that point I knew I couldn't handle the boat by myself in the impact zone, nor could we haul it out over the slippery boulders, so I swam it further into the sea.
As I swam the sunken kayak out of the fjord, I turned and yelled and motioned to Paul, who was sitting on dry boulders. He looked wet and stunned, with his cap sitting crooked on his head, and though there is no other way to get out of there, he seemed unwilling to swim out to me and the boat. I yelled out an offer for him to spend a night with Vanessa Paradis, but he came back asking for something more Greek, Portuguese or Mediterranean. Anyhow a spark was restored in his eyes and he swam out, and we were met by a large German-sounding lifeguard woman, who then called a jetski to tow the boat to a rock-shelf used by snorkelers and sea-lions, where we were able to haul out the boat, drain the water, and paddle it back to our launch point. The boat suffered several broken parts and a bent rudder, and Paul and I each got a few good bloody scrapes.
[ca. July 05]
Well, Paul and I capsized a boat again. We were on Paul's folding kayak this time, trying to shoot through the cave at Emerald Cove in La Jolla. The cave is one of many caves that dot the cliffs at La Jolla Bay, but it's special in that it cuts through the base of a small, pointed headland, and if the tide is high enough you can paddle small watercraft from one side of the cave to the other. We saw people paddle into a narrow mini-fjord, and just before they hit the end of the fjord, they'd make a sharp left turn into the cave, and emerge on the other side. There were 1-2 foot swells, and they surged through the cave but rarely seemed to break within the length of the cave.
Just before we got to Emerald Cove, we had come upon another large cave in the cliffs. This cave was large -- the opening area formed a 50-foot diameter cavern, and behind it you saw two separate caves leading to small, dark beaches. In the outer cavern the water seemed deep, and in the middle was a natural pillar coming out of the water and reaching to the ceiling. I was a bit concerned about waves surging or even crashing through the cavern area, but before I had even finished saying Whoa Whoa Whoa, Paul said Let's go and steered the kayak into the cavern. We tried to circumnavigate the main opening area by going around the pillar, but instead made a right-angled turn right into the side of the cave wall. That didn't register in my mind at the time as a lesson about the boat's turning radius.
Just after that we came upon Emerald Cove. We didn't really know anything about the cave there until we paddled right up to it and other kayakers shooting through the cave. We sat the mouth of the fjord watching two kayakers go into the cave. I was tempted and thought we might be able to make it but was hesitating to commit. As we sat there the surge of the swells slowly pulled us into the fjord, and, well, I'm not sure exactly how it happened but I heard Paul yell something like Charge Ho! or Damn the Torpedoes or something, and I found myself paddling straight into the fjord. At the end of the fjord we attempted to make a sharp, left turn into the cave opening, but made only 1/3 of the required turn and ran into a cliff wall. At that point a swell surged through the cave and hit us diagonally-broadside and the kayak tipped at about 45 degree angle.
A funny thing about disasters is that time slows down as it happens. In that slowed moment, mothers lift cars by themselves to free their babies pinned under cars, policement dodge bullets aimed at them, and young men dash into burning buildings to pull out sleeping victims. In my case, sitting in the front of the kayak tilted at 45 degrees, with a wall of water pushing on the left and a cliff face to my right, I wondered, Could we balance ourselves? Could we push off the bottom with oars to prevent capsizing? What would happen if we did flip? Is Paul deftly making emergency maneuvers to save the moment? When that slowed moment was over, time returned to its normal pace and I felt the boat lose its balance and spin upside down. I found myself standing in shoulder-deep water, and when I looked behind me I saw Paul swimming away towards the beach.
Actually, Paul was right there. We spun the boat right-side up and it was hopelessly filled to the brim with water. We pushed the boat to the boulder-strewn beach, and tried to pulled out over the boulders. The boat felt like a thousand pounds and we just could not haul it out over slippery, moss-covered boulders. A folding kayak is structured like a tent -- a (waterproof) canvas skin is stretched tightly around a frame made of aluminum poles and plastic spacers. Imagine a small tent that is completely filled with water, and trying to haul it out through breaking waves! As we floundered on the boulders, we were hit by a series of 2-3 foot breaking waves which flipped the boat again and knocked us around, and I was afraid the boat would come down on one of our legs and break it! One big wave knocked Paul way up the boulders, and as it retreated it sucked me and the boat a bit off the beach. At that point I knew I couldn't handle the boat by myself in the impact zone, nor could we haul it out over the slippery boulders, so I swam it further into the sea.
As I swam the sunken kayak out of the fjord, I turned and yelled and motioned to Paul, who was sitting on dry boulders. He looked wet and stunned, with his cap sitting crooked on his head, and though there is no other way to get out of there, he seemed unwilling to swim out to me and the boat. I yelled out an offer for him to spend a night with Vanessa Paradis, but he came back asking for something more Greek, Portuguese or Mediterranean. Anyhow a spark was restored in his eyes and he swam out, and we were met by a large German-sounding lifeguard woman, who then called a jetski to tow the boat to a rock-shelf used by snorkelers and sea-lions, where we were able to haul out the boat, drain the water, and paddle it back to our launch point. The boat suffered several broken parts and a bent rudder, and Paul and I each got a few good bloody scrapes.
[ca. July 05]
posted by lghtslpr at 11:12 PM
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