Day 1

Saturday, 09.20.08

Without intending to do so, this day begins a much larger journey for me than its original purpose of a 4-hour shake-down paddle for my paddling rig for Catalina Island. I have been preening and primping my boat and gear and traveling strategies for a week now and it is time to test them on the sea. Everything looks good in the garage but there is no ocean in the garage and home is just a few steps away. I rig and de-rig and pack the bags in anticipation of my first solo circumnavigation of Catalina Island. It's been ten years or nearly so since my last great adventure, a trip to the Los Coronado's during which a friend and I ultimately had to rely upon each other to survive. The solo circumnavigation of Catalina Island will be the proof of lessons learned, I hope. Since that last great trip, I've changed a few things and met some world-class athletes and adventurers who have been kind enough to let me share some of their adventures and success. In their workday lives they are doctors, analysts, engineers, well accomplished professionals. In their off day lives, they are Olympic athletes, channel swimmers, wilderness adventurers and more. In the two years since meeting them, I have witnessed the meaning of true adventure and personal accomplishment in action as well as planned deeds. It is now time for a few of my own.

I am at Shelter Island in San Diego, California. After a few hours of sleep it is 3:30 A.M. I am ready for what I believe will be a quick bay test of a new rigging and one that involves four solar water lit bottles as running lights, 2 float bags to displace unwelcome advances from the sea, and ALL of my kayak camping gear intended for a solo circumnavigation of Catalina Island Oct 17 to Oct 19th. I have 25 liters of fluids to drink (10 L Gookinaide/Hydralyte, 14 L plain water, and 1 L green tea) as part of my kayak camping load. All total, I have about a 140lbs of food, water, and gear including my boat - the much loved Innova Sunny. The Innova Sunny is a convertible 1 - 2 person inflatable boat that weighs 33 lbs and can carry 396 as its official rated capacity. Unofficially, it has carried much more when the health and safety of others has been in play. I feel very good about this day.

At 4:45 A.M. I push off from the beach and begin my paddle under the stars with a nearly full moon over head. It is a beautiful early morning. Paddling alone even in a well illuminated boat I stay as far to the edges of San Diego Bay as Homeland Security and the Navy will allow. San Diego Bay is home to a large number of military bases and assets better left undisturbed. The wind is calm, seals and sea lions bark, the bait barges are lit up like Christmas tree lots during the holidays. San Diego Bay is a very special place at night.

Making my way closer to the mouth of the bay, it is time to pause and wait for first light by the Coast Guard and dry dock assets that are the last installations on the bay before the open sea. I wait because the traffic even at this hour of the day from large sport boats is both heavy and erratic. Dancing with inattentive gross tonnage in the dark could be disastrous, and so I wait. These particular assets (Coast Guard) hold special meaning for me. Earlier this year the Coast Guard coordinated my rescue during an unsuccessful attempt to complete the 2008 Bay2Bay Kayaking and Rowing Regatta hosted by a local YMCA (June 2008). I was about a half mile offshore when a single rogue wave of 10' or more struck me off of the sheer cliffs and boulders of the Point Loma peninsula. The rig I am paddling today is the same rig that survived that wave with only the loss of basically a water bottle and a small electric pump. The rig this morning replaces that pump with float bags but it changes the center of gravity for the laden boat and some of the gear. I need to see how it paddles before taking more than 20 miles off shore to Catalina Island. At this point, I haven't yet decided to paddle more than a few hours but everything is paddling much better than expected and I feel good. When first light comes, I will round the Point Loma peninsula and the location of my search and rescue earlier this year. If I am going to paddle 47 - 50 miles solo around Catalina Island in October, some personal water demons will need to be exorcised today. The first of them waits for me just around the point.

First light arrives and suddenly now I feel unusually sluggish as I paddle for the point (Point Loma) and the open sea. The point is notorious for wrecking boats and small craft of almost every variety. It's surf break shifts with the swell and the wind and the tide and its offshore breaks can come alive with a single wave of the correct proportions and break with tremendous force on the ignorant and the unsuspecting. This morning I am particularly aware of my mistake in June. In June, I went with a minimum safe distance. Today I am grinding my way through open patches in the kelp to make doubly sure I don't get hit by another offshore break.

As I make my way out to sea I am struck by the large open stretches in places in what is otherwise a kelp forest thick enough for most birds to simply stroll across the top looking for an early morning meal. I am just a few minutes past the point and I can already see the location where the Coast Guard coordinated my rescue. I keep paddling until I am well offshore and on the far seaward edge of the kelp forest. Today the early morning skies look gloomy and dark in places. The winds and the seas already seem to be up a bit. I look back over land and it looks like a weather front is moving in. This could be a short paddle after all. I am directly off of the location when I got hammered by that wave. I look at it and pause for a moment thinking of all the things that could have happened but didn't and all of the things that went right. I can see my personal water demons leaving in disappointment but still carrying a somewhat knowing smile that they know more about the sea than I do. They leave anyway.

It begins to occur to me that I am feeling more relaxed and stronger now. I don't feel sluggish anymore or even tired. The sun begins to peak out in rays and the peninsula begins to shine in its light. Another hour goes by and then another. I lose the edge of the kelp a bit but worry less about it than if I were on the inside of the kelp. A BIG swell moves through. I move another quarter mile out. I don't care what the odds are of it breaking right at the outside edge of the kelp. I take a magnetic North heading glancing down occasionally at my simple GPS to see how I am tracking to my course back in June that took me ultimately to the face of that wave.

Before I know it, I am much further North than expected. It is decision time. I haven't had much sleep but I feel VERY good. Three hours into the paddle the seas and wind have calmed a bit and the sun is coming out more and more. It will be a six hour paddle back to the landing anyway I reason. Let's see how I feel in another hour. Afterall I remind myself, I have a boat with 25 liters of water of which 10 liters is food (Gookinaid/Hydralyte), 1 liter is a mile stimulant (green tea). I might go slow on the way back but back I will go. In an emergency, civilization is abundant along this peninsula everywhere that is but where I got hit last time.

Several miles to my North-East I see the South Jetty of Mission Bay breaking. It's on! Even if I have to call a cab, I'm going North to Mission Bay. I also have my SPOT personal satellite beacon with me and a VHF radio should I need help along the way. I feel too good to turnback now. Besides, I have to be able to push through tired times if I am seriously going to consider paddling non stop from Little Harbor on Catalina Island all the way back to Avalon some 19 miles and away from reliable radio communications on the side of Catalina where no one lives and few will see you if you find trouble there. I'll check the GPS to see when I am at 10 miles and see how I feel.

It's 10 miles now. I can almost smell the water on the rocks of the South Jetty at the mouth of Mission Bay. For me, there is no turning back now. The skies have cleared there is a gentle and refreshing breeze and I can see my new goal: a personal Bay2Bay. For the first time, it feels as though there must be a significant current. The mouth of Mission Bay should have been passing to my starboard (right side) and behind me by now I'm thinking. Am I getting tired? Am I overheating and slowing down a bit without realizing it. No. It's current, but I am too close to care if I have to inch my way along. I want to round the jetty before heading back down the peninsula to San Diego Bay.

The turnaround is too good to describe. The wind is almost calm, the seas almost flat, and for now the current is my friend. I rest a bit peel off a layer of neoprene and take a compass heading of magnetic South. My turnaround distance was between 13 and 14 miles. Completing this paddle will give me the confidence I need coming into the back stretch of Catalina Island. The 19 miles between Little Harbor and Avalon is not where I want to be ''hoping" that I can make it. Every stroke is simple insurance toward future success. The current is really pushing along. Watching the peninsula go by its streets glistening in the sunlight as early morning has now given way to early afternoon. I feel good very good still. I am wondering how much of the first of my two 10 liter bags still has food in it (Gookinaid). It is 1:22 P.M. and I am making my turn in to San Diego Bay. The wind and current have combined and all I have to do now is steer the kayak and give a stroke or two to make the mouth of the bay. I should be on the beach by 2:30 P.M. I'm thinking.

Inside the point, the cool freshness of the afternoon and sheer beauty of the bay come into view. Condos and apartments in Coronado, the Coronado bridge, downtown San Diego. All of it looks almost too real. And then, the wind hits. It will be another 3 hours before I make landfall but with the day won and my now being safe from the sea, who cares. The first of my 10 liter water bags goes empty. It is time to break into the reserves and to get to the beach.

On my way back I get another look at the assets in the bay and the hundreds of seals and sea lions on the bait barges, the fisherman on the Shelter Island pier, and the people settled in for an afternoon overlooking beautiful San Diego Bay. I am home again and I feel good. I wonder how much more I could have paddled and where I should go after Catalina?