The group decided to play in whitewater boats, for a change of pace and to train for upcoming surfing trips. I elected to use my Necky Looksha Sport, because I'm preparing for an ocean paddling/rock garden trip, run by the Tsunami Rangers, on 8-9 June. So, Steve recommended that we launch from a spot about a half mile upcoast from Marineland, on the Palos Verde to minimize the distance paddling these slow, stubby little craft.

Steve, Vickie, Jack, Hugh and George showed up. The first challenge was getting crew, boats and equipment down a rather steep hill to the very rocky launch site (second challenge). We all seal-launched without incident into rather tame surf and headed upcoast to play in the rock gardens. The tide was well into the ebb, so some of our favorite spots weren't accessible. This was more than made up for by the calm seas, which allowed us to access spots that we normally couldn't get into safely.

I don't know exactly why, but everyone was "hotter" than usual on this day, especially the usually conservative Vickie, who did some fairly outrageous stuff. Everyone except Hugh was not really accustomed to whitewater boats, so there were spills and thrills galore. Although these little boats can be extremely stable in surf, the sharp rails can get caught by swirling rock garden surf and surging and throw you like a wild mustang.

We found a few good surfing spots, with spilling waves and long rides into the rocks. I think I was the first casualty of the day, marking my first-ever rock gardening OBE (Out of Boat Experience). I was riding in quite fast, when a quirk in the wave veered my kayak too far to port side. Unable to correct the course, I hit an offshore rock, flipped the boat and hit my head on an underwater rock (that's what helmets and the tuck position are for). Underwater, I was dragged along the bottom and pulled out of the boat. Surfacing, I dragged my boat until I could stand, drained the boat partially, and paddled to a shallower spot to get reorganized and relaunched. Reassuringly, I was besieged by rescuers inquiring about my well-being. No damage, except a hurting neck by Sunday.

There is a huge tidepool surrounded by rocks that we can usually surf into at high tide, but it was inaccessible when we paddled by, so we contented ourselves with surfing/paddling into sort of a watery anteroom, which was even more difficult, because the water is always moving and drops off into a big suckhole just offshore of the rocks. So, you must move quickly and time it just right, or you roll, or you swim. As I recall, we had a couple of swimmers, providing us practice opportunities, with towlines, T-rescues and other good training.

We exchanged pleasantries with numerous surf fisherman on rocky points along our route, trying not to snag their lines.

On the far side of one of these points, there was a roiling patch of water through the rocks, up against an 8-10' rock wall, with sharp rocks and a suckhole on the outer side- great fun. Getting in and out was tricky. Vickie got surfed in by a wave and, I think, bonked into the wall and flipped over, disappearing for several distressing seconds before reappearing on the surface. Several rescue and self-rescue attempts fizzled, so she finally washed into some low rocks, pulled out and relaunched on the calmer side of the point. A gallant fisherman even provided some portage assistance and we lent her a pump.

Jack also flipped over in there and finally elected to drift into the rocks, haul his boat out and carry it over the precarious rocks, to relaunch at the rocky beach inshore. We retrieved his paddle and arranged a reunion along his route. Normally Jack would easily roll up, but he was unaccustomed to the whitewater boat and his shoulder was acting up again.

As the day progressed, the surf got a little bigger, but was mostly 3-5' in the exposed areas, with a fair amount of surge and power.

We stopped for a relaxing lunch and conversation at a spot we long ago dubbed "Rest Point," pulling into a sheltered area among rocks and crevasses. We are always fascinated by the frenetic activity in the tidepools, with fascinating creatures chasing and eating each other, while we prey upon Trader Joe's specialties. So much for the food chain.

Afterward, we were cold, but warmed up rapidly by playing in a nearby "hole" near the end of the point. Because the tide had dropped considerably, there was a passage into it from the offshore side that could only be negotiated by surfing over the rocks as a larger wave broke through- tricky! Predictably, we had several OBE's and even more rolls. Steve, Jack and Vicky all did dramatic swims and allowed us to practice on them. They were all able to reenter their small surf boats on the water, with assistance, which is harder than reentering a sea kayak. Vickie was thrown upside down, exited, climbed up and balanced on a precarious awash rock, managing to reenter and relaunch unassisted. Hugh made a number of spectacular trips through the hole without even once being unhorsed. Steve and Jack plowed through, with their customary Evil Knievel aggressiveness.

On the way back home, the tide had dropped more, changing the seascape considerably, opening up new play areas and closing some others. When we got back to the hole where Vickie plowed under, we found that the ebbing tide had exposed more treacherous rocks and made the suckhole and surge deeper and more powerful. Of course, everyone had to go in and play there.

While transiting the area, I tried to turn to port side (there was that troubling port turn again!) to cut through an incoming breaker and found that my paddle didn't respond. So, I was thrown to starboard and against the big rock face. I looked down at my starboard paddle blade and saw that it was 90 degrees off from the vertical. Thinking that I had foolishly indexed it incorrectly, I reoriented it, took a strong stroke on the starboard side, then when I stroked to port, nothing happened again! Buffeted by waves, out of control and moving my body to balance the boat against breaking waves, I checked the pin holding the two paddle halves together and tried reorienting it-- no improvement! I was able to single blade and hand paddle behind a rock to shelter me, while I checked my expensive Swift paddle, to learn that the Starboard blade was spinning freely on the shaft and about to fall off, There were four of us in this little area pla! ying together. I shouted for the others to get out of the way so that I could steam out for more sea room. When I got out, Steve helped me to deploy my spare paddle and stow the Swift on the rear deck. You should always carry a spare paddle.

On Sunday, I repaired the paddle with Marine Tex, a very useful adhesive. The paddle now appears to be stronger than new. This is the third recent incident with a Swift paddle that I am familiar with. In all fairness, I must admit that I use this paddle for some fairly heavy duty rock gardening.

We continued on, exuberantly surfing, exploring and paddling homeward. We were all getting rather tired and we still had the climb up the steep cliff to the cars to deal with. We all seal landed on the large rocks without incident. The borrowed cart I used to carry my 90 lb. sea kayak and gear wasn't up to the task, so everything had to be hauled up by hand. Jack and Hugh were kind enough to split the boat haul uphill, even after lugging their own stuff up. Thanks, guys!

Afterward, we all went to a great little fish taco place near Gaffey and 6th in San Pedro, eating and animatedly discussing the day and much loftier issues.

Note that the day's route can be negotiated quite safely, simply by paddling a few feet farther from the rocks. We all started by doing that and gradually moved closer, as we sought more of a challenge. Don't do more than you can handle or have a contingency plan for. Go well-equipped, with experienced partners.

    George Miller

Submitted on May 28, 2002