BackBallintoy, Ireland | A kayaking knockabout
When these kayaks headed out into the Atlantic, the open ocean decided to take things into its own hands
Premium
My kayak had gone belly-up. I flailed underwater, holding my breath as I tried to turn it around from beneath the water’s surface. But waves were pounding the kayak, and I was running out of breath, even as the chilly waters of the Atlantic were creeping into my wetsuit like fingers of ice.
******
The ocean had shown no signs of such violence just a short while ago when my four fellow kayakers and I, along with our kayaking guide Stephen Craig, had “read" the Atlantic from the shore in Ballintoy in Northern Ireland. Reading the Atlantic meant gauging the height of the waves, the choppiness of the water, and estimating the path of currents to chalk a safe path for our kayaks.
“As long as the waves have no white tops (froth), they are safe to ride," Craig had declared. The Atlantic looked quiet—it would be a pleasant enough ride, I’d thought, as Craig laid out our plans for the day.
“Imagine a happy smiley face with a button nose. Think of the curve of the smile as the coastline and the button nose as Sheep Island sitting off the coast," he had said, pointing to the wide horizon.
“We have to paddle out between the nose and the smile along that narrow channel of water that is green. Close to the nose (the island) and close to the smile (the coast), the sea is a churning porridge of froth that will overturn a kayak," Craig briefed us.
We’d have to manoeuvre around a fair bit, but surely that wouldn’t be too hard.
******
As we exited the harbour and paddled into the open ocean waters, I become nervously aware of how vulnerable I was in the tiny kayak surrounded by the untamed ocean. Huge Atlantic swells rolled up to me one after another.
As my kayak flailed, almost as if it was out of control, I aimed it at that narrow channel of water that marked the safe path through the hostile white sea on either side.
I had reached the channel and was paddling parallel to huge waves, leaning into the waves as Craig had advised. I had this thing figured out, I thought.
Suddenly out of nowhere came a huge wave; bigger than the ones I had been seeing. Instinctively, I swayed away from it instead of leaning into it. It was a bad move—the wave flipped over my kayak effortlessly, almost as if it were weightless. I didn’t even have time to react, leave alone collect my thoughts.
My kayak had overturned. I was under water, and panic was washing over me. My best attempts to right the kayak were futile, and I was running out of breath, so I came up for air.
As I breathed deeply, I noticed that my personal buoyancy apparatus had me bobbing on the water’s surface. Relief coursed through me—I was getting out of here alive.
My relief was short-lived as I realized we were now no longer in the safe channel that Craig had indicated. The ocean had washed both Craig and me into the area where the waves were breaking dangerously.
Craig and I kayaked side by side parallel to the waves, paddling hard to get out of this “white-water" area. In my own panic, I hadn’t had time to think about our other teammates.
As we frantically paddled out, a whopper of a wave slammed into Craig’s kayak, lifted it up and dropped it on top of mine. I actually thought I heard my ribs creak as they smashed into the opening of the kayak’s hatch, as Craig’s kayak rammed into my chest.
The next thing I knew was that I was, once again, in the cold and green Atlantic, next to my once-again overturned kayak. My life jacket yet again propelled me to the surface. Now both Craig and I were bobbing in the waves with our kayaks scattered some distance away.
Koert Strujik, another expert paddler, came to our rescue. The waves around us were not huge, so Strujik managed to right Craig’s kayak, and gather up our paddles.
Craig then got into his kayak, and paddled off to retrieve mine. I was exhausted and bereft of energy—I could barely get myself to climb into my kayak. As I slipped into my hatch on my third attempt, I heard Craig’s yell, “Watch out here comes another big mother..."
Since Strujik was a lot more experienced than I, Craig yelled at him to grab his boat and stay with it. Craig then guided me back to the harbour. I saw waves loom in the distance, but we stayed clear of the white-water area—and I breathed with relief as I reached the shore.
The other three kayakers who were with us were waiting for us on dry ground. I learnt Craig had instructed them to abandon their trip and head back as soon as I had gone over the first time. As I collected my breath, too dazed to even talk to them, the wail of the coast guard’s siren filled the air. Craig had headed back into the sea to rescue Strujik—and was back 20 minutes later with Strujik, who was turning blue.
Twenty minutes later, all six of us were safe and in dry clothes. We sat in the harbour bar, sipped hot and sweet cocoa, and looked out at the water.
Later that afternoon, the sea quietened down. All of us headed out again into the water. We rowed out in our kayaks, and paddled to Sheep Island and back.
This time, the ocean didn’t jangle our nerves. I leant back and relaxed in my kayak’s hatch as I looked on at the placid waters around me.
Unlock a world of Benefits! From insightful newsletters to real-time stock tracking, breaking news and a personalized newsfeed – it's all here, just a click away! Login Now!
