, 6 min, 1196 words
Tags: adventuring
This summer I worked to develop my technical kayaking skills – not just rolling, but also comfort in bigger and faster waters than I'd previously experienced. In August, I got a fabulous opportunity to build skills and experience amazing waters. Alex, one of the incredibly awesome sea kayak guides and coaches here, invited me on a day-long paddle to Cattle Pass and then onward to Friday Harbor. Thanks, Alex!
Our plan was this:
Along the way, in a location undisclosed for safety and cultural reasons, was the joy that is Cattle Pass: the quintessential tide race in the San Juan Islands and a real riot on the right tide.
See the summary map embedded above for a sense of where some of these places are. I've also entered some comments about the paddle.
The paddle out was a stunner. We had great visibility and the calmest waters either of us had ever seen in Rosario Strait. Luckily we had a 2.7-knot ebb current with us, which helped us cover almost seven (nautical) miles in our first hour on the water. For context, a typical sea kayak pace is two and half to four knots. So seven miles in an hour says we had some serious current helping us out.
After our crossing, it was starting to warm up, so we rolled around a bit to cool off. It still blows my mind that I can just do that. Plus I got to watch Alex pull some fun hand roll shenanigans.
The second portion of our paddle out was a bit more of a slog – the ebb didn't really round the corner with us, so we ended up paddling into a fair amount of current. We played around a little, checked out some gooseneck barnacles, and spotted a sea lion cruising along near the coast. We gave him his space.
Eventually, we rounded Iceberg Point and cruised up the coast a bit, then caught the flood up between Lopez and San Juan, riding until around Turn Island, where again we had to fight a bit of current. Eventually we paddled into the marina in Friday Harbor, exhausted and delighted with the day.
As we watched the tide race "turn on," we also saw four other paddlers arrive from various directions. Two were friends of Alex, one of whom he'd expected to meet. Then two were paddlers with San Juan Outfitters, a local shop based on San Juan Island. This was something I hadn't expected: since the tide race turns on at specific times on specific days, it acts as a paddler magnet and thus a gathering point for the paddling community. So not only did we all get to surf some fun waves, we also made new friends in the process!
And now on to the actual race in Cattle Pass. Man was it awesome. Also intimidating. But mostly awesome. Currents meeting from several directions kicked up substantial waves in a smallish area. A convenient rock and kelp bed nearby provided a handy eddy for resting and taking turns. And the waves! In the front of the race, the waves were gorgeous: steep, regular, and consistent. Behind them, waves from several directions competed for the paddler's attention, sloshing water over kayak decks and ensuring constant vigilance. A skilled paddler can surf all the way through the race, riding one wave into the next in a smooth, effortless-looking flow. Watching Alex and some of the other paddlers surf is like watching a professional skater or dancer in action. They blend power, flexibility, and uncanny reflexes with impeccable timing and unerring predictions of wave behavior, and the result is awe-inspiring.
For myself, I caught several good waves and briefly experienced the thrill of surfing. I am still working to read waves accurately, and I'm building confidence in big and unpredictable waters. My biggest victory for the day followed an unintentional capsize. I had fallen back into the confused waves behind the front lines, and while low bracing against one wave, another snuck up on me from the right side. I had a moment of trying to save it, then a moment of knowing I was going under. In that moment, I remember thinking "which side do I roll on, okay the wave is that way and that's my strong side so let's go." Then instincts built over hours of practice kicked in, and the next thing I knew I was blinking saltwater out of my eyes, above the surface again.
In other words, I got my first real combat roll! Until that moment, I wasn't certain that rolling would occur to me on a real capsize, so it was a real confidence builder that not only did I try it, but it also worked.
To bring me back down to earth, I did end up swimming twice. That is, I capsized and couldn't roll up (but I tried both times! so proud), so wet exited and then dealt with getting back in my boat. I'm incredibly proud that I pushed myself enough that I ended up swimming in the first place. I can't wait to get out there and push myself again.
The ferry ride home was a great time to decompress after an intense day, and Alex (ever the coach) facilitated some lovely reflection too. Natural history highlight: gooseneck barnacles, Castle Rock, and exploring the south end of Lopez. Fun highlight: catching some waves and riding them for what felt like forever. Growth highlight: staying upright on waves, first true combat roll (!!), and continuing to push myself, even if it meant swimming a couple times.
In total, we paddled between 21 and 25 nautical miles, plus a few hours of surfing. It was also my first experience with the broader paddling community, and certainly my first time in a "real" tide race. In the end, we walked our kayaks onto the ferry – which did earn us a few strange looks – and rode back home to Anacortes. What a day.
One of my journal musings from that night summed the adventure up perfectly: "caught some amazing waves, watched very skilled paddlers doing their thing, and got to push myself in an incredible way."