Lovers Point/Cannery Row

In the mood

I was talking to someone on the phone today. He wants to get together to buy a paddle. Fair enough, but I told him I'd already be on the water by then. Well, when would I be finished? I don't know, I tell him, I feel like paddling all day. All the way to Moss Landing. Just put in and go.

Love is a new kayak

And so we're back together again after all these years. Like a salmon returning home to spawn, to me this "is kayak", it's imprinted on me, I am coming home. This is the first boat I paddled with Steve Scherrer so long ago. A Tempest 170. I finally found one for cheap (in candy apple red, my midlife crisis boat). Sure there's no skeg, sure it's missing a toggle or two, is badly battered and bruised. But this is a boat with character. This is a girl I can grow old with. I can surf and roll and camp out of her all at once. This gal can do it all.

Black oystercatchers

A cool, calm day, overcast, and flatish. There was no one else on the water. Virtually nobody. So, bored, I entered a small rock garden to play. Rounding one rock I looked up and what should I see not ten feet away but a pair of black oystercatchers working the wrack. I was sure I had flushed them I was so close. But they stayed, more interested in limpets than me. What a treat to see such a majestic bird go about its business. Must have sat there for ten minutes just watching. Photo from the aquarium (their captive kin).

Tide pooling

at Coral St

Thanksgiving

In 1983 I broke my neck. I was asleep in the back seat, the driver
was asleep in the front. I survived that crash and narrowly escaped paralysis. Life changed dramatically enough, though, as it was: It taught me that death will always catch you off guard. And to be appreciative for what we have.

Express egress

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I opened my e-mail Sunday to find that a friend would be on the water in 5 minutes. Well, there was no way that I could catch him, but I could head him off at the pass! So I jumped in the car and was off. Fifteen minutes later I was on the water paddling on a course set to intercept. Along the way I bumped into friends I almost never see, up ahead on the water. Then surfed the steamers rounding Hopkins. That's always a treat. Played in the rocks by the aquarium. But no friend. Unless he got a late start, he should have been there by then. But then, no, wait, there he was in the distance! So we played a bit more in the surf at McAbee Beach. Toyed with the idea of meeting our death rounding the rock under Fish Hopper, but rejected that idea. And then the rain began. That's what I miss most around here. We just hung out rafted up and chit-chatted, as the wind slowly blew
us out to sea. Then the skies opened up and it really came down. We parted company and each went our separate way, assaulted on all sides.