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Saturday 3/2/02   

Marine Land launch  ~7NM

Thare she blows!

George Wrote:

We met at the old Marineland site, at 0930, to take advantage of the flooding tide along the Palo Verdes Peninsula, easily the most beautiful coastline in the LA area.  

All of us have paddled together before and some (not me) are expert rock gardeners.  "Rock Gardening" is the art and science of paddling in rocky, surfbound coasts.  I currently play the role of apprentice gardener and follow the leaders.  Some of us in our group, including a few missing this week, are preparing for the Tsunami Rangers' class in May.

It was a balmy day, unusually warm, with a light wind, distant haze and warming (60 degree) water.  It was one of those magic Southern California coastal days that makes you joyous to be alive and there.  Hundreds of people had parked cars in the usually deserted lot, to catch a shuttle to Long Point to look for whales from the high cliffs and, I think, attend some sort of fair.
We wheeled our kayaks on carts down the hill and seal launched in the Pacific, practiced rolls, then headed up-coast to play in the rocks along the shore.

The conditions were pretty calm, allowing us to play in places I was unable to readily get to before, but just made it easier for the other paddlers who are veterans.  Paddling a little further offshore is usually fairly smooth, but inshore, in the rock gardens, tidepool entrances and caves, it's a different world of surging, swirling, breaking waters, unyielding rocks and great beauty.  We played follow-the-leader, darting in and out of rocks, trying to pick opportune moments when there were "windows" in the sets, not always succeeding, but learning something each time.

I transited areas that struck fear into my heart a couple of weeks ago, including one diabolical cauldron that tore $350 worth of destruction out of my Kevlar beauty (I now have a spiffy new plastic Necky Looksha Sport).

A couple of areas had wide expanses of protruding and hidden rocks and reefs, swept by breaking waves.  If you don't time your passage just right, you can get caught in a heavy set and have to hang on for dear life, punching through waves, advancing, retreating and doing slap braces, until you get your chance to slip away behind more rocks or exit the surf zone.  Sometimes the areas are too big to get through before being attacked by another set, so you just have to ride it out, or if you're smart, find a rock to hide behind, or deeper water to retreat to.  Even if waves aren't breaking, powerful currents surge through hidden passages between the rocks, dragging you along, sometimes requiring maneuvers to stay upright and on a course, of sorts.  Great fun for sickos.

Steve had picked our start time to get us to his favorite huge tidepool, guarded by a formidable reef. The pounding surf creates huge suckholes at the two entrances, whenever the waves subside and water sluices down from the 100' x 200' tidepool, back to the sea.   The hope was that the high tide would make it easier to get over the reef into the tidepool. Although the high water was helpful, the smaller surf (2-3' with an occasional bigger surprise) actually didn't help, because it wasn't flowing as copiously as usual over the rocks to help lubricate our entrances.  But, we all got in without major mishaps.  

 After frolicking around inside, we gravitated to the more difficult portal and tried to negotiate exits, with somewhat more difficulty.  I was waiting in a serpentine passage for someone else to make an awkward exit.  The torrent of water exiting between waves gradually dragged me out.  The timing was wrong for that, so as I tried to back up, I turned sideways and was washed up onto some rocks. While balanced there, praying for rain, I was hit by another wave and flipped over to portside into shallow water, over razor sharp rocks.  I tucked my helmeted head down toward the cockpit.  Finding it too shallow to roll, I thrust one hand down and pushed my boat back upright, ending up with a series of scrapes and lacerations on my hand. I must plug up that chink in my body armor with heavy gloves.

Most of us ended up exiting on the other side, some moving smoothly as the waves receded, others, deliberately (I think) and dramatically plunging over the waterfall into the suckhole and bouncing out, to return to the sea, like salmon returning from their annual migration.  We then headed up the coast, me trailing shark chum from my bleeding hand, later receiving expert repair assistance from the fair and gentle Vickie.

We stopped off at a reef-protected cove with a sandy beach, appropriately dubbed  "Rest Cove" by Steve. There, we had a nice relaxing lunch, chatting amiably and spotting a gray whale spouting and breaching about 1/2+ mile offshore. At first it looked like a rock awash, but rocks don't move that fast or spout like that.  After launching again, we played for quite awhile at the end of the reef. It's amazing how these guys can think of so many ways to play in the same rock formation, going in and out, back and forth, landing ON the rocks in pounding surf, turning around, launching, threading through passages, etc.
 The trip home was fairly uneventful, with fewer than usual capsizes, although some of the group deliberately cause such events just for the fun of it, or for practice, which never ceases.

We got back to the launch point earlier than usual, seeing no more whales and encountering no maritime disasters. Steve organized a roll-fest, urging us to all capsize simultaneously, then roll up in unison, like trained seals, while Vickie operated the camera, to record the event for posterity and to avoid doing it herself. Clever girl.  Normally, I avoid rolling deliberately when away from shore, but Steve made it fun, and there were four experts there to rescue me if I should screw up.
Vickie and I seal landed and hauled our kayaks up to dry land, while the others stayed to use up all the film in their cameras.  We all went back up the cliff and loaded up, recounting our experiences of the day, already planning future exploits.

Don Wrote:

There is a short dirt road down to the old pump station.  We usually ride our boats down the boulder-lined beach into the water.  We call this the dream launch.  These rocks are smooth, and do little damage compared to the jagged sharp ones that are in the water.  The water was a toasty 60 degrees, but we all wear as much Gortex and rubber as we can.  My newest purchase is elbow pads, for skating.  But today I mainly use my helmet and of course my Lendal, which is where I am really surprised hasn’t snapped yet, like my A.T. did, The first time I took it out.  Jack uses a short white water paddle, more rpm!  I may be looking around for one.  Oh well, so much for equipment, other than last week I had to paddle my daughters 14ft Supper Classic.  It was OK, but I think the hall out is why my back went out last week.  We all had a good laugh when I pulled the plug and it drained for 3 minutes.  Today I am happy because I am back in my Avocet.  Even though I am a little stiff, it feels good to be back home again in my favorite boat. 

Today the water is calm but the wind is up, so the ocean is a beautiful bumpy blue with visibility to about thirty feet.  The waves weren’t big but white water lined the coast.  It was high tide and the surge was up and down.  We don’t really go very far at this location because the fun starts immediately.  My main objective today is to heal and stretch my back.  Our destination is to rock garden to the big pool.  Ride all the wash waters along the way, and stakeout all the new play zones along the way.  Today we did just that.  Vicky and Jack are the only ones we didn’t see capsize.  We all did, but no one punched out.

                One incident in which I can clearly remember is when Steve rode into this slot.  As the surge dropped out from beneath us Steve capsized and did a face plant on one of those nasty rocks.  I couldn’t believe he just waited there until the next wave arrived and he flipped up, fortunately no cuts.  The rest of the paddle was pretty mellow, except the synchronized rolling exhibit that we did for the arts and crafts fair up on the cliff.  So it was another perfect ending to another perfect day, except we all wanted to paddle to the sun, but we all just drove away.  

 Steve Wrote:

I don't think there is much to add to what the others have written except to explain what Don saw from the rocks-eye view.

I am heavier than Jack and have a lower volume boat, so there are spots I just can't follow him into without getting hung up. This time I decided to chance it and followed him behind a small reef into an are littered with rocks. Sure enough, I got hung up.

Usually even if you are hung on a rock you can stay up by leaning your body into the wave. Even if the boat won't lean, this usually allows you to "skip" over the rock or on top of it, rather than being flipped into it. If you end up on top, the next wave will blow you off. This time, however, my boat was caught in such a way that I was leaning way over toward the shore, away from the waves. Very bad.

I knew that the next wave would roll me into the rocks. I had a choice between trying to stop my impact with my shoulder, arms, etc, or tucking as far as possible and allowing it to roll me all the way over. Bailing out was not an option because there would not be enough time. The waves were small and mostly dissipated on the small reef so I choose to try and muscle my way through and take the impact  on my upper body. 

As expected the next wave rolled me into the rocks, resulting in the "face plant" Don described above. In a situation like that, the hierarchy of needs dictates that keeping your face out of the rocks is higher priority than holding the paddle - I dropped it. 

The part of my head that hit the rock was covered by a helmet, so there was no damage. Most of the impact was absorbed by my right upper arm and shoulder, resulting in a very large bruise on my upper arm and some scratches on my shoulder. I was wearing a full wet suit which minimized damage, otherwise stitches may have been necessary.

Now I was almost inverted, jammed against the rocks, with no paddle. I estimated that I did not have enough time to right myself and exit the boat before the next wave arrived, so I decided that staying where I was against the rocks would result in the lowest impact velocity when the wave hit.

It was a small wave, which re-floated the boat, allowing me to push myself upright. I was still caught on the rocks and could not reach my paddle. I tried to exit the boat, but didn't budge, I tried again with no luck, and then realized I still had the spray skirt on (whoops). Now there was no time left to exit, but at least I was in a position to lean into the next wave to brace against impact. It wasn't so small as the last one, and skipped me up onto the rock I had just done a face plant into.

This was good luck, because now I could reach my paddle. I grabbed it, waited for the next wave, and easily washed off the rock.

I paddled off and enjoyed the rest of the day, but I didn't pass back though that spot on the way back. I don't like having body contact with the rocks, but if you play in rock gardens, it is going to happen from time to time.