Skookum sea kayak smorgasbord
The first sea lion catches you off guard. You become aware of the surroundings on the paddle up the slack water to the narrows at the head of the inlet — soaking in the marine life, tin tugboats on weathered moorings, the tangles of bull kelp, the eagles and the high-water line meeting steep, forested hillsides rising into dark clouds. And soaking in the rain, which has not stopped. Then you just start hoping you don’t get hit by the sea lions that pop up everywhere but directly underneath you. Landing on the jagged bedrock outcropping, Hall and the Hurricanes are already setting up a tarp for cover.
The stationary, river-like wave is a fickle moonchild. Some days, the right tide differential for enough current volume and speed means surf’s up, bro. Other days you could get hosed, eh. The incoming tide flood picks up and our wave suddenly forms. The amplitude of the top roller grows to its long, green-wave threshold. Everyone moves without word to clam their boats off the sharp rocks of the reef-covered point. Suddenly there’s nine sea kayaks smacking and swirling in the eddy, jockeying for the calmer spots in the lineup.
It takes me a few tries to get the angle down and dig the initial massive rudder stroke, torso over rushing water, to keep the Wilderness Systems Zephyr 15.5 I’m in pointed downhill. Then it’s on. Out on the wave — two boaters, three at time even — sharing the goods and cruising in the long boats. Paddles are spinning. Two of the Hurricane guys manage a mid-surf hug during a dual surf.
Then the max flood hits. The green wave transforms into a fierce pile in a matter of seconds and back again. Most of the eddy lineup moves to the shore to cheer the few of the 16 total sea kayaks left for the full 10.2-knot punch – Gonski and Waidelich from our crew, Marty Perry and Pavel Szopa from the Hurricane crew as well as longtime local Skook fixture James Mole — who speaks fluent Canadian and helped us navigate the West Vancouver ferry crossing near his home — get the most dynamic rides and throttlin’ in the pile.
With each surf, the beached crowd is secretly crossing fingers for a carnage show, as is Rowan Gloag, the Hurricane Rider on film detail. Perry satisfies our window-shading thirst, but turns the Maytag spin cycle into a stylie under-chunder ride, holding on and finishing an epic surf — with barbeque-tongued camera deck mount still intact.
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