Surfski Knowledge Base

Two Views of Monday Madness
surfskilady
12/13/06 #2225

HEATHER: At put in, we decided to go in two groups. Morris and Jeff
teamed up, and Brandon and I did. I was in the S1-X Special, Brandon
was in my V10. It had been blowing SE which is an offshore wind, so
my preference is always to stick close to the shore.

At first, up until Governor's Point, wave height was mellow, maybe
2-3 feet. Brandon and I had made the plan to chat at Gov's to see
if an eddy-out was in order, but when we reached it, there was no
need to stop and so we kept surfing north.

Within a few minutes of passing Gov's, wave height began building
and the south waves were mixing with ones coming from southeast from
within Chuckanut Bay, adding to the complexity of the rides. At this
point, though, I was feeling relaxed and was just starting to get
some fun rides. I was totally warm in my drysuit, and within
shouting distance of Brandon.

BRANDON: After our last big wind day when we were out with Don, I'd
chatted with Simon about my less-than-ideal experience with the V10.
His advice was simple: Be way more aggressive. So I went into this
day with those simple instructions, and my paddle shafts newly
adhered together. From the first few minutes on the water, I knew I
was going to have an awesome day. By the time we'd reached the
bigger waves past Gov's, perhaps 5 to 6 feet by that point, I'd
figured out to not waste any energy trying to power into a late
trough, as it was a guaranteed swamping – literally up to my chest
in water on a wave peak. By actively backing off the peaks and then
powering for the trough directly behind, I found I'd eliminated 90%
of the swampings, and was still catching mega rides. At the end of
every ride I'd check for Heather, who was staying within ten boat
lengths of me without a problem.

The two-directional waves gradually became one-directional, south-
southeast, and grew in size as we neared Post Point. By that time, I
had watched Jeff and Morris get further and further out into the
Bay. They were laterally about dead even with us, maybe just ahead.
Wind strength was building, and I remember feeling pity for the
upwind paddle they would have to endure to get back to Marine Park
or Fairhaven Boatworks.

HEATHER: By the time we were even with Marine Park, I was struggling
to hold any direction but straight down wind. We were well inside
the Post Point buoy, close enough to wave to someone on the beach.
Brandon, who was then 5-8 boat lengths behind me, made the turn to
take out comfortably, but I shouted that I couldn't make it, and he
turned back downwind and surfed up to my side. I gave it one more
try, and got the ski turned roughly perpendicular to the wind, but
could not make an inch on that last 90 degrees. I turned downwind
again, as did Brandon, and we were back to riding the wind and
waves.

Paddling “off the wind” even at a steep angle was extremely
difficult, and it seemed futile even trying to “stairstep” our way
towards, say, Boulevard Park. We were both plenty warm and were
getting good rides, so rather than waste energy struggling against
the wind, waves and my boat, we made the quick decision to keep
heading down wind.

Brandon shouted out, “Let's go to the delta.” We'd talked about
this option in the past, and in drysuits, being on – or in – the
water an extra hour or so was entirely doable. When in doubt, we had
said, (and when there's a miles-long beach waiting like a
catcher's mitt at the end), go with the energy.

BRANDON: The decision to paddle on to the delta was comforting.
Paddling into or traversing this wind was like paddling in concrete.
I knew the delta was a cushy landing area because I'd taken some
kite-surfing lessons there, had dragged myself around the knee-to-
waist deep water that's miles wide and better than a half-mile out
from the beach, was laced with staircases and trails leading to
houses and condos, and on and on. I yelled over to Heather that we
could stash our skis under some trees, walk up to my buddy Andy's
house, and call for a ride. What I knew would be the crux was the
increased fetch between Post Point and the delta, which would allow
the waves to grow God-only-knew how big.

It was at about this time that I started seeing the Coast Guard
helicopter hovering over the beach where we were headed, then flying
out over the Bay. I wondered what they had found so intriguing at
the delta, which was still a good hour away for us.

HEATHER: As we traveled, the wind and waves continued to pick-up. We
were constantly within sight of each other and were always in
position to assist the other. Brandon was having a great day, and I
could hear him letting out howls behind me as he was dropping into
yet another eight foot face. As I was prepared to help him the last
big wind day when we were out with Don K, we had switched roles, and
on this day, he was ready to assist me.

Wave face height, by the middle of the bay, was over 10 feet. Wind
was sheering off the peaks, and spray exploded at us like it was
shot from a fire hose. I could not imagine taking the blasts in the
face. I was beginning to have a hard time controlling my ski, and so
I slowed down and let everything roll under me.

More and more, I was staying in a low-brace support position with an
occasional forward paddle to catch a ride. Even so, I eventually got
knocked off the ski. My Huki ankle leash instantly stretched to it's
max under the force of the wind and waves, but held beautifully. I
was able to reel in my boat, climb onto the upwind side, then rest
with my stomach across the seat well so I was perpendicular to the
boat. I held my paddle parallel with the boat and just out of the
water.

BRANDON: I was three or four boat lengths off Heather's left side
and a length or two in front of her when I saw her get knocked off
her ski. I immediately dropped my legs in the water and started
paddling gently backwards. I wasn't sure if she'd try to re-mount
on her own, but I was comforted to see her watching me with a smile
on her face. Within two minutes, I was floating just downwind of
her, then I grabbed her ski right behind the seat with both hands,
(my left hand also holding my own paddle). She side-saddled with her
legs upwind, got her paddle in position, then swung her legs in.

We stayed rafted up just long enough to “check in” with each
other, then I gave her a nudge away from me and she was pointed
downwind and surfing again. By the time I got my legs back up and
paddled to catch a wave, Heather was a good ten lengths away. It was
moving that fast. But in the space of two rides I was again right
next to her.

Before Heather swam and while I was back-paddling toward her, I
watched over my left shoulder as the Coast Guard chopper hovered
over what I guessed were Jeff and Morris. It was a mile or more
behind us and seemed like a mile further out. There's nothing quite
as ominous as wondering if what you're watching is a rescue or a
recovery. It's not something I've witnessed before, and it seemed
like forever that that big red bird stayed hovering there, well
within the plane of “liquid smoke” that filled the air for meters
above the water. Well after Heather had remounted and we had set off
again, the chopper was still hovering.

HEATHER: After Jeff called the Coast Guard, they picked him up, then
Morris, then came and located us. I was actually in the water, (the
second of two swims), and climbing back into my boat as they hovered
overhead, descending closer and closer to the water. The coast guard
swimmer had one flippered foot out the door, but when I was back on
my ski we signaled that we were OK and were heading for shore. They
watched us get going again, then flew off to take Jeff and Morris to
the airport. Jeff said he told them we were dressed to swim and had
a VHF.

BRANDON: Through the final third of the paddle, the waves had indeed
grown to just a gigantic size for Bellingham Bay. Heather had read
me the forecast earlier that morning, that they were calling for 9
to 12 feet, and I remember we looked at each other across the
breakfast table with furled brows, thinking: “Is that for real?”

As the chopper took off after hovering over us, the wave height well
within the predicted range, the wind absolutely broke loose. It was
surreal: the Coast Guard chopper flying off overhead, at that exact
moment the sun breaks through the lead-colored clouds, back-lighting
the thick haze of spray blanketing the bay around us, and a “gust”
hits clocking over 60 mph that just did…not…stop. (Peter Marcus
would tell me later that the weather station on his oil-spill
response ship, which he was sitting in out in the bay while we
surfed by, indeed showed steady wind speeds in the 60s).

And as the wind peaked, we reached the delta. The water turned muddy
brown, the wave height dropped to 3 feet, and the rides peeled along
for hundreds of yards, a gentle crumbling wave just pushing the skis
along, a low brace for good measure, like long-boarding at some
classic, interminable beach-break.

As we approached the beach, drift logs were piled high in either
direction as far as we could see, and with a high tide and a bit of
a storm surge, there was no sand “beach” per se. We aimed at a
giant, stationary log, and when we were within a boat length of
reaching it, just hopped off in knee deep water and wrestled the
skis ashore. (The sight of this miles-long ribbon of churning,
tumbling drift logs didn't exactly inspire confidence that Terry's
lost V10 is still among the living. Terry, if you haven't recovered
it yet, my condolences bro.)

HEATHER: As soon as we pulled our boats up, a storm watcher came
over to greet us. This happened to be Rob Campbell, a kite surfing
buddy of Shaun Sullivan's. He had hiked down to assess a sailboat
that had washed up into the logs, (which is likely what the Coasties
were hovering over an hour earlier). He welcomed us with a warm
smile and immediately invited us up to his house, saying something
about a hot tub!

While his wife made us tea and we started making phone calls to the
Coasties and Debbie Arthur, we watched out their bay window in total
awe as the wind tore across Bellingham Bay, up the cliff in front of
their house, and ripped huge patches of shingles off their roof as
it went by.

It was only then that we learned that Jeff and Morris were O.K. and
had been dropped off at the airport. “And their boats?” we asked the
Coast Guard official on the phone, hoping they hadn't also become
drift log food. “They were recovered on the water,” he answered with
pride.

BRANDON: As a whitewater paddler, whenever something epic took place
on the river, one of us took just a wicked trashing, got pinned,
took a hellacious swim, etc., it seems that there was always a
corresponding material sacrifice. A drybag full of goodies would
come unclipped from the back-band and be lost to the river.
Sometimes it was something as simple as a sponge, or a carabiner…
but it was spooky how it always played out.

Yesterday, after having a wild two-hour ride with countless high-
speed surfs and other thrills, watching our buddies getting heli-
vacc'd, us ending up a long way from home but at a warm house with
good folks and a hot tub and hot tea, not a scratch on either ski or
so much as a lost tube of Chap Stick… I might have been caught
wondering if I'd cheated karma just this once.

But I would learn how painfully wrong I was, as we reached put-in at
Larrabee State Park to retrieve my van. We pulled up at 4:30 p.m.,
darkness just setting in. My parked van's passenger side window was
smashed and laying in shards on the gravel. My heart sank. I opened
the door and could tell the van had been rifled through. I'd
started the day with a quick walk-through at a buddy's remodel, and
had driven straight to the Bay from there. All my inspection tools
were on board… and now they are gone. My leather jacket, a gift
from my folks two Christmases ago, gone. My gym bag, workout
clothes, jump rope, gone. And my digital camera, the picture of
Larry's pelican undoubtedly still gracing the flash card… gone
with the wind.

Aghhh… the cost of high adventure.

Be sure to check out the new pictures, and visit
http://www.bellinghamkiteboarding.com/50mph/index.html to see kite
surfer Andy Holmes' collection of delta pix taken sometime early on
December 11th.

josephdbarker
12/13/06 #2226

WOW! Thanks for a great report guys. Who says you need to be “out
in it” to be learning? Sorry about the loss of gear but who can say
the value of passing on what you learned from the experience to
others? I sure value it!

Joe

Jeff Hegedus <jhegedus@…> 12/14/06 #2228

Sheesh…my father, who lives in Princeton New Jersey, just told me
that the rescue video was on TV there, and he was looking to see if
it was me…

Michael Gregory 12/14/06 #2229

Whut Tha? You guys are like Celebs now. Wonder what yer Nielsen Ratings are? Probably had to bump CSI Miami to get the news out. Spielberg might be calling to talk about movie rights. How exciting! Mike.

Larry Bussinger <lbussing@…>
12/14/06 #2230

My thoughts exactly. Well almost. But I am impressed. As hard as
he's tried, even Mike G hasn't been able to attract this much
attention.
After I found out that everyone was OK, I had to laugh. It must have
scared the Bejesus out of you. Reminds me of the notorious San Juan
Challange years ago when the wind was hitting 50 mph. Took me a year
to recovered my calm after that.
Larry B

Dale McKinnon
12/14/06 #2234

…somebody should ask Debbie what my reaction was when she told me Morris was pulled out of the water by the CG.
Dale

(More Misadventures in Bellingham Bay)
Morris Arthur <marthur@…>
12/11/06 #2215

Brandon, Heather, Jeff Hilburn and I launched from Larrabee around 12:30
this afternoon in strong SE winds (20s gusting to 40s). Jeff and I were
catching great rides a half mile off-shore; I'm pretty sure Brandon and
Heather were having a great time too a little closer in.

By the time we closed in on the Fairhaven bell buoy, the waves were big
(8-10 feet?) and often cresting. I felt OK until I tried to turn upwind.
The best I could do was a slow ferry just off the point of the wind. Not
very re-assuring…

Jeff had turned downwind and was now headed toward the Nooksack Delta. I
chose to continue ferrying east towards the dry dock and alert the Coast
Guard (yeah, right.) In reality, I alternated between wimpy low strokes
in the (30 mph) lulls and frantic braces in the (60 mph) gusts.
After about one and a half hours of this– you would think that I'd try
a different plan by then, huh?– I was surrounded by a huge Foss tug
upwind, a Coast Guard cutter downwind, and a serious-looking Coast Guard
rescue helicopter overhead.
With Jeff grinning down at me from the helicopter window, the huge tug
bellowed “Are _ you _ in _ need _ of _ assistance?” I knew the right
answer…

After checking to make sure that Brandon and Heather had successfully
made it to shore (somewhere below Marine Drive), Jeff and I were dropped
off at the airport. Our boats were generously retrieved by the
Fairhaven-based Coast Guard. Great guys, those Coasties…

Corner me, Jeff, or the Nelson's, and you can probably get more
interesting details.

Morris (who's doing a great job of precisely establishing his
limitations :)

More misadventures continued…
hilburnjjcl
12/12/06 #2216

Morris isn't kidding about the huge waves. My GPS read a top speed
of 17.0 mph! There were a number of times when I'd be launched down
the face of a wave and even though I was leaning as far back as I
could and leaning on my paddle, I'd still porpoise my bow up to my
feet. Yes…up to feet..
Like Morris, I found I couldn't get turned in to Fairhaven either
with the crazy wind gusts. I decided to just surf it out to the
Nooksack Delta, but then remembered my wife was out of town and I
needed to pick my son up at school. Son crying at school…office
trying to contact parents…parents not home…office calling cell
phone and reaching wife out of town… Bad, Bad, Jeff.
I had my radio and my hands were getting cold and I was already past
Fairhaven and heading towards the old Cement Plant. I was concerned
that if my hands got too cold I wouldn't be able to remount my boat
and/or work the radio. The more I was getting blown out into the
middle of B'ham Bay, the more I realized it would be more difficult
to spot me if I got separated from my boat, etc.. Would my GPS points
be accurate enough for them to find me in the water?
What to my wondering eyes should appear, but a Coast Guard helicopter
from Port Angeles. So, I decided to call for a rescue.
On a serious note…I thought they'd just send one of their small
boats from the station at the Marina, not an armada of Foss tugs, a
big Coast Guard boat and pull us out with a helicopter. I appreciate
the work everyone put out to rescue us. It's serious business when
others put their lives in possible danger to rescue you.
Lessons to be learned: 1. always carry a radio and a GPS too.
2.Consider what happens if the wind changes direction.(It was blowing
predominantly from the south when we drove along Chuckanut and looked
at the water. We thought we'd have trouble staying off shore
actually.) 3.Dress for immersion. (Heather and Brandon were in dry
suits)

Jeff