Kayaking To Catalina
September 2000
I grew up in Northern California and paddled a traditional whitewater kayak
in local rivers. Back then, a new adventure was scouting a put-in and having
a ride back from the take-out. I was oblivious to the existence of ocean
kayaking or even what a touring kayak looked like.
In 1992 I moved to Los Angeles, far from the rivers of Northern California. I
was naïve before moving here, believing that there was really was an "L.A. River."
It was a cruel hoax by some Southern Californian I am certain. The LA River, a
concrete lined drainage canal, a swampy trench not fit enough for a swim by a
demented frog, was far from any kind of a waterway. I was in LA with a kayak -
an oxymoron. I checked out a few kayak shops, all of which specialized in ocean-touring
kayaks. My paddle world was transforming and I soon had a paradigm shift. The
ocean became my water park. My garage stored kayaks I had acquired. My Q400E fiberglass
expedition kayak is still my pride and joy. Ordered factory direct from Quality
Composites Corporation in Janesville, Wisconsin, it has become my most paddled
boat and has been seaworthy on laden coastal treks.
I had been paddling in the ocean for several years, mostly within eyesight
of the coastline. I felt I had acquired solid intermediate to advanced
paddling skills and was determined to undertake the challenge of a crossing
to Catalina Island. I decide to make my first crossing with a an organized
group. I contacted Southwest Kayaks in San Diego, Ca. and within minutes I
was scheduled to make the next crossing, which included a circumnavigation
of the island before a return crossing.
The trek date arrived. We met at 3:00 A.M. at Cabrillo Beach. Eleven
paddlers converged on the beach with our kayaks. We knelt in the sand and
packed provisions and gear into our boats for what would be the grandest
6-day adventure ever. Ed Gillet, owner of Southwest Kayaks, needed no
introductions. After his unsupported solo kayak paddle to Hawaii years ago
and many other accomplished treks since, this would equate to a series of
leisure day-paddles for him. For us commoners, it would be a monumental
achievement - our first extended kayak camping adventure with a crossing.
This was our opportunity to escape the urbane.
Dry bags, filled with food, clothing, and miscellaneous wares, were
scattered in front open hatches. Our flashlights cut through the darkness
like searchlights, stopping only to identify the next dry bag to tuck into
the disappearing voids of each bulkhead. I had pre-packed my boat the week
before and memorized where each piece of gear belonged. I was confident the
"D" rings and straps in the bulkheads would secure gear in place to prevent
shifting in turbulent seas and, if required, Eskimo rolls.
We were still knelt by our kayaks securing deck hatches when we heard Ed
loudly proclaim, "This is Great!" He was looking across the water and had
his arms were raised up towards a sky filled with stars. Ed's positive karma
and aura exemplified his outlook about life; it was extraordinary. It was
his gift to us throughout our trek and something I will not soon forget.
Ed assisted with the launch of each paddler by giving a quick shove. He
could be heard saying, "Paddle hard after the wave breaks and you shouldn't
even get wet." We still got wet but all of us were beyond the surf on our
first attempt. The acceleration of my laden kayak was a bit sluggish until I
was up to speed. The gear, food, and water for eight days seemed to act like
ballast, stabilizing the kayak.
We waited for Ed in the dark beyond the surf like anxious children. He was
the last to launch. He paddled out to where we were. We all anticipated a
sermon on safety or at least his expectations of the group. Instead, he
asked if anyone needed to make some adjustments. After an "all's well" from
the group he told us we were going to have a "great" time. He gave us the
compass heading and distance; the trip began. The next thing I new we were
taking a short break to watch the sunrise. This was GREAT!
We donned hats and sunscreen and resumed paddling. A large pod of common
dolphins began racing across the water in front of us. It was a spectacular
show of acrobatics. Dolphins breached the surface and went nearly vertical
then dove without a splash. The show slowly came to a close as they
disappeared in the distant swells. Nature treated us again with a short
escort by several white face dolphins that paralleled us for several miles.
They moved gently across the surface and were much larger than the previous
dolphins we encountered.
Another paddler and I were about 100 yards from the main group when we
noticed a dorsal fin slowly emerging like a periscope about 10 yards from
our port side. We were certain it was a shark when the distance closed and
we were able to see the distinct shape of the tail making a gently "S"
pattern as it neared. We stopped paddling and glanced at each other as the
shark slowly dove beneath out boats. I felt my heart pounding in my throat.
I wasn't certain what to do except slowly paddle back towards the main
group. My companion paddler did the same. We estimated the size of the shark
at 5 feet. We weren't certain what kind of shark we had encountered but one
of the others in the our group told us that Thresher Sharks and Tiger Sharks
inhabit the area but are not aggressive. This was good to hear.
The crossing took a little over 8 hours and was fairly easy except for the
last 5 miles. We encountered rough chop and a steady 15-20 knot headwind and
three-foot swells from the west. I dropped my rudder and kept a steady pace.
It was not long before we landed at Isthmus Cove, a gravel beach. I cringed
when I heard the other kayaks grinding up out of the water. After landing we
had to drag the kayaks up the beach about 20 yards. I could hear the gravel
eating at the gel coat - these were the first of many scratches and gouges.
I decided not to inspect the damage until I landed back at Cabrillo Beach.
The next legs of the trip were all comparable to the crossing but along the
shoreline. At times, only several feet from the cliff walls and rebounding
waves. I occasionally popped my skirt and dangled my legs over the side into
the crystal clear waters of west side of the island. Several of the others
even took a swim during our floating breaks. Did I mention we had to make
Nature's call while on the water?
Our first campsite, Parson's Landing, afforded us a spectacular nighttime
view of Los Angeles. The sky above us was filled with stars. The distant
city lights appeared further than the 24 miles we had paddled. Here, the
only sounds we could hear were from the crashing surf. It was not long into
the night before we retired to our tents. I was less than comfortable
without my sleeping pad, which I forgot in the back of my car. The sandy
beach was hard on my stiff muscles. I took some ibuprofen and tried to
sleep. I suffered a restless night. We stayed at Parson's Landing for an
additional night. The second night, I used my clothes and towels for a
makeshift sleeping pad. It was better than nothing but not by much.
The morning of the second day I snorkeled in the crystal clear water near
the cliff walls. The water was teaming with colorful fish. There were bat
rays swimming a few feet off the ocean floor. Sand spilled off the top of
their bodies, as they seemed to fly through the water. I was awestruck by
underwater life. Fish darted around me as I swam through the schools that
were gathered near a submerged rock formation. It was here that I
encountered my first Tiger shark. I caught a glimpse of a shadow over my
shoulder as I was diving down. I turned and was face to face with about a 4
foot Tiger shark. I know nothing about shark behavior so I was petrified. I
started to turn away as I surfaced but decided I wanted to know where the
shark was at all times. The shark passed back and forth in front of me
several times before swimming away. I turned and made an anaerobic swim to
shore.
I was later told by one of the paddlers, who used to do a lot of diving,
that the Tiger shark is very docile but curious. Enlightened with this
information I returned to the same spot and saw another Tiger shark. I still
felt the same panic but I was fascinated by the calmness it displayed as it
curiously swam around me. I still kept my eye on the shark until it left the
area. My swim back to shore was no less anaerobic then the previous.
After drying off I took a short hike to the top of the hill where an
abandoned gunnery was located. The concrete foundation that once held the
large war gun is in remarkably good shape. The massive mounting bolts give
some indication of the size of the cannon. Just to the right of the mounting
point is the bunker and what might have been a sleeping dormitory. I crawled
down the steel ladder and toured the inner shell. The soundproofing is still
in place on the walls and ceiling. The passageway between the dorm and the
ammunition bunker is a dirt tunnel that was shored up with large timbers.
The timbers were giving way to the pressure. Behind the voids of the timbers
are resident birds. Being inside the subterraneous structure spawned a lot
of questions about the history of this hillside.
A few of the other paddlers accompanied Ed on a hike through the valley
earlier in the morning. They were en route to the airport restaurant to have
a buffalo burger for lunch. The hike was mostly uphill and took them nearly
the entire day to cover the round trip of 18 miles. They arrived just before
sunset and were ready to eat dinner.
The first three landings on very rocky shores. Some were on steep rocky
shoals left exposed at low tide. In running surf, I paddled straight in and
nosed up as far as I could on the shore before popping my skirt and bailing
out. I latched onto the bow toggle and pulled as the water receded, the
stern would drop noticeable into the trough. I pulled the kayak up with the
next push of an expended wave. The hull supported the kayak as it teetered
on the crest of the rocky shores. My concern about scratches and dings had
long been forgotten.
The circumnavigation gave us opportunities to see bald eagles standing watch
from atop the cliffs. Sealions perched on rock outcroppings basking in the
sun as we paddled past. Flying fish took flight in front of our kayaks.
There were spectacular pressure holes that blasted the seawater hundreds of
feet into the air after being pressurized by large swells. We saw several
sea caves, one of which we paddled into and excited out another opening. The
water was crystal clear and the wildlife was abundant. The remote side of
the remains unspoiled and offers incredible views of nature.
It is one thing to paddle along the coastline but when you know the feeling
of having "crossed" you have a new perspective - "This is GREAT!" Thanks Ed.
Thanks Mother Nature.
Chris Russ
Submitted on June 22, 2001