Paddling With Wind: Two Approaches

April-May 2004

This is an article from WaveLength Magazine, available in print in North America and globally on the web.
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by Alan Wilson

Neil Schulman Photo.

The day dawned clear, calm and blessedly quiet. The noisy group of young guys down the beach was sleeping in after carousing to all hours.

As my wife and I cooked breakfast at our campsite, we listened to the weather radio. The forecast, in typical good weather fashion, called for moderate northwest winds by mid-afternoon. It looked like a day to make an early start.

We decided to leave the tent set up rather than relocate, and just go for a day paddle to explore the island’s northwest shore. By the time we’d cleaned up, gathered our gear and launched, we could feel a faint breeze. We set off into it, our paddling speed adding to the breeze so that its relative strength increased, rumpling our hair. The bows of our kayaks rose and fell on the gentle swells as we paddled energetically forward.

The breeze increased as the morning progressed and we began hugging the sinuous shore of the island, taking advantage of the small breaks in wind and waves which its landforms afforded us.

After a couple of hours, we came to a bay near the northern tip of the island. Beyond, we could see rollers mounting, surging along.

The beach here looked inviting so we hauled our kayaks well out of the water and set off to explore for future tent sites. Then we dawdled around tidepools and reefs for an hour before finally breaking into our picnic. After a lingering lunch on a giant beach log, we took a hike through the forest to the far side of the island where we could see the full extent of the sea raging. Returning to our kayaks, we geared up and relaunched for the ride home.

The wind was definitely up, as predicted—probably 25 knots— and we stayed well offshore this time in order to catch the full benefit of the swells and wind. It was a great chance to test our rough water paddling skills, bracing and balance as we surfed along with the waves.

It was a much quicker trip back to the campsite, whooping it up as we roared along, ending up on our own beach, glowing with the rush of the paddle.

Landing, we were happy to see that our rowdy neighbors had gone off for a paddle and we had the beach to ourselves. We got out of our gear and went for a swim, then dried off in the sun with our books. Later, after a lovely meal and cleanup, we sat relaxing in our beach seats, peacefully watching the sun falling toward the horizon, noting the wind finally starting to decrease.

Just then, the neighboring group appeared around the far point to the south, looking tired and wet.

We watched as they hauled ashore and flopped exhausted on the sand by their boats. It didn’t look like there’d be a party that night!

Our group had arrived late at the campsite, tired from the long paddle from our distant launch site, but not so tired that we didn’t have a good time around a big campfire, making inroads into our weekend beer supply, laughing and joking till well after the stars came out.

We slept late the next morning and had the beach to ourselves by the time we rose. Our only neighbors, the couple down the beach, had set off earlier, leaving their tent set up.

We took our time over breakfast, recovering from the night’s revelry and it was almost noon by the time we decided to set off for a paddle.

Feeling a northwest breeze in our faces, we decided to go southeast, with the wind at our backs, and we found the paddling effortless with the push from behind.

It seemed like we were flying along. Those of us who were new to paddling were impressed with how easily we could move these sleek hulls, enjoying the thrill we got as the swells rose up.

We weren’t exactly surfing, but it was fun paddling like hell as the swells rose under us. We raced one another, rising on each crest, surging forward, then falling into the following trough of the wave.

After awhile we spotted a small stretch of shell beach and pulled in, deciding this was as good a spot as any to hang out. Some of us lay about in the sun while others wandered around checking out the area. We broke out some chips and a few beers, and had ourselves a good time in the sun.

Eventually someone pointed out how windy it was getting beyond the cove, and some of us clambered up a nearby rocky outcropping to get a view. We saw a lot of whitecaps.

So we decided to wait for awhile. Surely it would die down a bit. And anyway, there was nowhere else we had to be in a hurry.

But by late afternoon some of the guys were becoming impatient and we decided to go for it. Besides, the beer had run out.

We launched and started back, quickly realizing just how much the sea was up. It was one thing to stand on shore and see whitecaps in the distance. It was quite another to be pounding up and down into the face of the waves, spray flying and progress—even stability—in doubt. Some of us were also starting to feel distinctly queasy.

Somebody mentioned that paddling against the wind was probably slower by half than paddling with it, and our spirits sank at the thought, calculating the time ahead.

It seemed like hours of hard paddling, making painfully slow progress. At one point, one of the least experienced in the group capsized and the bunch of us drifted well back downwind till we finally got him back in his kayak.

We finally reached the campsite just before sunset, our arms aching, soaked with spray and with blisters on our hands. Landing in the waves at the beach, we flopped out into the shallows, dragged our boats ashore and collapsed beside them on the sand, totally exhausted.

We didn’t care what the couple up the beach, relaxing in their beach seats, were thinking.