Curiosity ~ Lucidity ~ Humanity
Along the way from the Waquoit Bay channel to Falmouth Heights the outflows of the lesser channels provided challenging yet playful distortions of waves and current that seemed more like a kaleidoscope than kitefoiling. My buddy, another Mike, was at times so distant that his kite was barely distinguishable aside from the black and orange flash in the sky. Other times he flew past like a cormorant...but mostly above the water...unlike my dashing inadvertancy of dives in and out.
After reaching our unspoken waypoint we head back in a more downwind direction that is at once less work and more. It is playful to surf down the waves with the wind at our back but again reality is deceiving and in an instant you can fly and dive like the best sea bird. While passing through the minor washing machines I start thinking about my re-entry into Waquoit Bay. Should I skirt around the channel? Should I go far wide to reduce the rollers and breakers and brave the whims of the open ocean? I see my buddy, Mike, shortcut between the jetty rocks and the green marker. Is that possible? With a 90 cm draft? I guess so. I see him avoid the biggest standing waves and navigate the massive outgoing current. OK, I decide, I'm going in...but I'm going to hit the channel straight on to stay away from rocks. My skills are good but not expert and I need margin. The wind is strong...a gusty 20+ knots. That is good. Just enough to maybe power out of a bad situation with my 8 meter kite without tossing me like a ragdoll...as long as I keep my head.
I enter and head more downwind. Surfing high and low. Up and down. The waves get higher and lower. I have a bit too much speed and I'm wiggling perched on top of this board on top of a water plane that I'm hoping won't try to turn into an airplane. I see the waves cresting around me. I am now flying through the water at great speed but the current is slowing my progress relative to the jetty rocks quickly approaching on both sides. I enter the channel. The waves peak. I'm overpowered or just getting confused. I crest and feel myself falling forward. This is not good, I think to myself. The next sensation is that I'm twisting and rotating head long into the water--like a clown but without the grace and humor. I'm now in the washing machine. I pop my head up and realize that my kite has crashed into the water. This is better than hitting the rocks but this is a situation that needs attention quickly. Luckily the wind is strong and my kite has a forgiving relaunch. After that I regain a moment of calm. No idea where my board is. I recall Mike telling me of the unnerving tendency of the outgoing current to pull boards further out to sea without easy ways to fetch them.
Decision time. I am bobbing up and down like a saturated cork between the red and green markers with the wind and current competing to keep me stationary. I am being dunked and pushed with a force that started concerning me. I could try to use the power of the kite to pull me up stream through the channel back to the relatively calm waters of the bay...but that that's a landlubbers mindset and is actually more dangerous. Better to be in the water away from hard things.
In a funny way, as I am being scrubbed and tossed in a continual series of giant standing ways I see that I am frozen in place. It feels a bit like being at an intersection waiting to turn and accelerate on my way. It would have been completely different had I not had the power of the wind at my command. My board now becomes a secondary thought. I decide...I'm going to body drag across the wind and zig and zag out of the channel before things go sideways on their own. This works better than expected and I am out in a few gasping moments. Collecting my wits, I now take on the task of finding my board. After a few more tense moments I spot it on the edge of the main action and after more concerted body dragging up wind I catch it. Now we're cooking with gas!
Do I try again? I decide to take it as a sign of fate to go around the jetty and take the longer way back in, which involves a short beach walk. The washing machine is still a challenge to traverse but it is the right choice. I am rewarded by a quick return and arrival to the beach on my own terms, heralded by Mike who has been watching the spectacle from the jetty rocks with his kite as the welcome banner.