Wednesday, March 31, 2004

In the quickly passing minutes as the wind suddenly picks up, swells build and kayak turns toward the rocks, I am concentrating too hard on paddling, keeping my daughter paddling, reassuring my son, and scoping out our quickly changing options as each wave carries us farther in, to think about what to do should we hit the rocks, flip the boat and land in the now churning surf.
He is yelling "Look out Mom, we are heading right for that rock" but at the last second, I dig hard backpaddling on the right yelling for her to paddle hard on the left, and we are sliding between two large boulders and into a small bowl of more sheltered water between the wave line and the rocky shore. The guide reaches us a minute or two later, his words light as he hooks on the tow line, but his eyes give away the risk he felt having watched our last few moments battling the surf. We are very lucky, life jackets notwithstanding.
For a minute I am angry they let us go out at all, but there is no heading back into the roiling bay we have launched from, and we are committed to the next 5 miles to the put-in point. Anger will not help us get through, so I will the anger, and the panic, and all the possible worst cases, off into the white caps as we aim our boats back out into the sea. I think I am merely putting off the reaction, but the presumed melt-down never comes.
Faith? Denial? Protective instinct? I'm not sure, but I'm hoping it might be the good sense to know there is nothing gained by playing out the worst when the worst didn't come to pass.

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?