I Should Have Stayed Home - Kayaking in Bolinas, CA

On Saturday morning, February 26, 2000 I headed to work to meet my coworker Ulrich for a kayaking trip in Bolinas California. I haven't been in the ocean since leaving New York, and Ulrich is the extreme sports type, and owns several kayaks. We climbed into his truck in the sun of Palo Alto and headed north with dark clouds on the horizon. By the time we crossed the Golden Gate Bridge the rain slowly started falling.

Our first stop was a surf shop in Marin County. I needed to pick up a wet suit. I remember thinking this would be totally unnecessary, I've been kayaking many times and never gotten wet, other than getting in and out at the beach. After talking to an employee with one to many body piercings we found a wet suit in my size. I squeezed into the suit and reminded myself I needed to lose some weight as I jumped around trying to grab the zipper. After forking over my American Express card and feeling like Johnny Utah getting ready to do battle with the Pacific we headed down Route 1.

The town of Bolinas is tucked into the amazing coastline of California, near the San Andres fault. It's hard to believe we were less than an hour north of San Francisco as we rolled through the town and down to the beach. As soon as I opened the door the wind came howling in. The on shore breeze was at least 25 knots and the sea looked like it was open for business. We suited up, unloaded the kayaks and paddles and walked to the beach. Bolinas has a small lagoon area, blocked from the big ocean waves, but with a strong current flowing in with the tide. I climbed into a long sit on top kayak and pushed off, while Ulrich paddled out with his surfboard like wave ski kayak. I was moving out into the lagoon, parallel to the waves, getting pushed by the current. I quickly realized that this narrow kayak didn't have the stability of the kayaks I was used to, plus the center of balance was above the water line. After tipping side to side and trying to keep my balance the waves pushed me over. The current moved the kayak out of reach quickly, but I kept hold of the paddle. Swimming with a wet suit is an interesting experience, I felt a lot heavier as it filled with water. The harder I swam the further from my kayak, and the shore I seemed to get. Thankfully Ulrich grabbed my kayak and held it while I swam over. Climbing back in is even more of a challenge. After several failed attempts Ulrich mentioned, “You know, you still have your glasses on.” I said, “Don't worry, I won't lose them.” On my next attempt to climb in I lift myself into the kayak, almost got my balance in then flipped again, hitting Ulrich's boat, ending up underneath mine and grasping for the surface. When I resurfaced my glasses were gone and I knew I was in serious trouble.

The beach was now too far to return to and the only thing close enough was a small dock tied up to a nearby house. I swam over, grasping for air and barely pulled myself up. I always thought of myself as a reasonably good swimmer but with the weight of the wet suit and the fierce seas I would have been at serious risk of drowning had I stayed in much longer.

Ulrich paddled to a beach at the end of the lagoon, tied the two kayaks together and headed back while I struggled to catch my breath. When he came back I decided to swim for the end of the lagoon instead of trying to get back into the kayak. I staggered up onto a sand bar and collapsed onto the beach.

Now we had the problem of how to get out of the lagoon. Ulrich hiked around as I lied on the sand, head spinning, in awe of Nature's power. When Ulrich returned he said the lagoon ran into a creek that was protected from the wind and waves. By now I had caught my breath so we carried the kayaks over to the creek and hopped in. This time the water was only a few inches deep and we dogged sand bars for a few minutes before running out of water. With the tide on it's way in we pulled the kayaks on shore and decided to give boogie boarding a try. I probably should have quit while I was ahead, and still alive but we waded across the creek, climbed onto another dock. We gabbed the boogie board, fins, and the wave ski from the truck. Then Ulrich asked, “Do you want a helmet?”

“Helmet? What do I need a helmet for?”

“Just incase the wave ski hits you in the head.”

“I'll stick with boogie boarding.”

Well the sea was in a bad mood now as we walked to the ocean. We were both getting blown back, Ulrich carrying the wave ski, while I carried the boogie board, fins, and paddle. The wind was actually blowing water and sand across the beach. Unphased by Nature's fury we headed in to do battle with some nasty waves. With the fins on it was hard to walk and the wind was trying to suck the boogie board from my hands. By the time I was ten feet from the shore the current tried to pull me under, but I pressed on, determine to ride the waves. Waiting for my set to arrive, as waves piled up on top of each other. After a few attempts at riding a wave and trying to keep from getting pounded into the sand I said, “Fuck this, I'm going to the beach.” Ulrich wasn't fairing much better with the wave ski. He grabbed the boogie board and fins and disappeared into the Pacific. I couldn't see much without my glasses and after a few minutes started to worry. Eventually I spotted him looking for a wave without much success. Eventually he returned to the beach saying, “These waves suck!”

“No shit.”

Determined to have some fun we headed back to the kayaks. With a little more water we paddled up the creek for a few minutes, then running out of water again. Figuring I hadn't tempted fate enough for one day we paddled back to the lagoon, looking to get to the other side. As soon as we passed the houses that were blocking the wind the waves started breaking over the bow of my kayak. I switched back and forth between trying to stay upright on minute, then getting pushed back into the sand bars the next. After a few minutes of this I had about all the fun I could take and couldn't keep for laughing at the insanity of what we were doing. I climbed onto the sand bar and dragged my kayak back to calmer waters.

We made our way back to a dock in the creek and I struggled to lift myself out of the kayak while Ulrich held it steady. I eventually rolled onto the dock in a fit of hysterical laughter. As Ulrich pointed out, “At least you can laugh about all this.”

As we got the kayaks on the truck the sky opened up with a monsoon style rain, blowing one of the kayaks clear off the roof, luckily missing both of us. After getting the kayaks tied to the roof we turned inland, heading north for Point Reyes. The wind and rain were near hurricane conditions, as we pressed onward down Route 1.

With the heat blasting to keep the windows from fogging Ulrich commented, “The engine temperature is running high, that's not good.” This part of California is sparkly populated and a break down in these conditions would surely leave Ulrich in serious troubled as he hiked to find a service station, while I stayed in the truck (to make sure nobody stole the kayaks).

We pulled off at the Point Reyes beach, and into an even stronger wind. The waves were huge, more evenly spaced, and looked a little more rideable. After thinking about suiting up again, we both came to our senses and got back in the truck. After filling a Snapple bottle a few times to add water to the radiator we continued down the road to the Point Reyes Lighthouse. I thought the wind was strong before, but climbing the hill to the lighthouse, with the wind howling all around us it was hard to stand. The lighthouse was closed, and the hour growing late so we started heading back. The rain and wind continued as we crossed the hills Marin County and back home to Palo Alto. We vowed to kayak again with the weather had calmed down.

In the end all I could think of was Charles Jefferson from Fast Times at Ridgemont High saying, “Nature, don't fuck with it!”