I had never felt my physical being in peril before, where I was actually scared, so scared that I cried out “Help me, God!” at least several times in a row. I am thoroughly exhausted and have been walking around the Waikiki Kalakaua Avenue strip like a zombie for 3 hours while the adrenaline that seized my body today finally normalized.
I’ll post a nice photo of myself in my kayak – this was taken about 20 minutes before my event began. It really was a beautiful trip. Kailua Bay, on the east side of Oahu, is so amazing. The drive itself was through lush, green mountainous terrain with breathtaking expanses of valleys to witness at many points. The water was light aqua blue; I had not seen that color before. The sun was high and intense, sending warmth over you after splashes from wave crests doused you.
“Have you kayaked before?” my young guide questioned, “You look like you know what you’re doing.” Only on very brief, calm water rides, I explained. But I felt strong; my body has never been as strong as it is now with all of my training this last, almost two years. How could I know that everything, the lung capacity from running, the upper body strength from weight training, and especially my new found swimming skills this past year – how could I know that it would all come down to this day?
I was the only single kayaker other than the guides. There were three other couples. We had paddled for two miles to two small islands off the windward side of Oahu. We were to face the incoming waves and maintain our position as best as possible until it was our turn to pull a sharp right, head towards the edge of one island, then turn another abrupt right so the waves could push you in between the two and up onto the beach with Jacob, the guide, to catch you and help maneuver you in.
The waves had gotten rough, and we had to maintain an easterly direction – it was challenging after a 2 mile kayak and my arms definitely needed a rest. It was taking awhile for Ryan, guide #2, to let the next kayakers go as one large wave after another came in. They were breaking close to where we were, so you couldn’t take a sharp right and head to the island because it would turn you over. In fact, the waves were getting really big. All of the sudden, we saw that Jacob had jumped back in his kayak and was headed toward us – waving toward the shore of Oahu, “Get back, get back!”. He wanted us to move further back away from the swells and breaks.
Just as I was about to turn, a monster wave came up. Well, to me anyway – it was the largest I had encountered. I faced into it as I had been instructed. This was it, that dream that you have of going up a hill and you keep going up until you are almost vertical – this was what my kayak was doing. Only this time, instead of breaking through the top of the crest, the nose of the boat turned to the right ever so slightly and I knew that was it. The kayak turned on top of me and I tumbled through the water. Lucky for me, I’m an ocean girl. I’ve tumbled many times, and I know I’ll come up again after the tumble.
What I wasn’t prepared for was the reef. There are no reefs close in off of Savannah, Georgia. Not to mention no 10 foot waves. After I tumbled, my body came upon those reefs, solid, cutting, scraping. There was only 2 feet of water above them maybe, so that each push of a wave sent me scrambling along the tops of the jagged rocks. Somehow, my oar was still in my hands. I could see my kayak – can I get to it? My feet pushed off the reefs, scraping my toes, my fingers grasped the reef pockets as best they could to stabilize myself against the current. My hat floated a few feet in front of me and I grasped it and clenched it between my teeth. My sunglasses were lost; I saw my liter bottle of water and orange-ginger chapstick floating away.
As I reached my boat, I heard and saw Jacob coming upon me. “Grasp the other side and pull it over!”, he hollered. He had just explained to us how to do that before we left the shore, so I was already trying it. I hauled my belly onto the kayak perpendicularly and maneuvered around. “I’m in!” I thought. “Good job!” Jacob hollered. We started to paddle a bit towards shore for a moment.
I started to turn towards him, because he was already around so he could head back towards the little island. And then I saw it, another wave – only this was bigger than the last. “…back!...” I heard Jacob yell – did he say to turn around so I could face the wave? I started to turn, but I knew immediately that I didn’t have time to face the wave. He must have said put my back to it, and I did. And then I rose. And rose. I was moving so fast and I was up so high. I tried so hard to paddle, at one point I said to myself, “I’ve got this, I can do it.” I felt my teeth clench. I was up on the crest for so long; I couldn’t believe it. But then the nose started to turn, and I had no skills to know what to do at that moment.
I capsized again. Only this time, I was afraid. The power of the water was greater, I stayed out of control longer, and the kayak landed on top of me. Then it rushed away from me. Again, I splayed out over some reefs, and I felt them cut my legs and fingers as I grasped for them. Chunks of reef pulled out into my hands and somehow a little voice in my head said “Oh, you’re hurting the reef…”.
I couldn’t get a grip this time, and I kept getting jacked from one sharp rock to the next. My boat, this time, was so far away. But again, I had the oar in my hands – how was that? Why did I continue to hold onto it? I asked myself this but made the decision to keep it. I had a life jacket on, but the oar made me feel like I had something to help me, though how I did not know. I was frantic at this point, because I couldn’t see Jacob at all. I knew I was far from where we had been when that wave came. I couldn’t really focus on anything.
This is when I hollered for God’s help. I felt, for just a moment, a surreal moment, that there was a decision being made. To help Lori or to not help Lori. I surprised myself, in fact, with the fervent request. And I was, in turn, shockingly surprised that I felt a decision had to be made. I had been refraining from naming God in my recent enlightened periods, afraid of a past belief system that had let me down. It was only in this desperate moment, when the real truth of your being becomes known to you, that I was able to call out, using God’s name. I am still uncomfortable writing it now, however, proving to myself that I have a long way to go, as yet.
“To help Lori” was obviously the decision, so grateful am I for that. I decided to hold as fast as I could to the reefs, pulling myself down, parallel with them and ducking the waves if possible, so I wouldn’t move so much. This banged me against the sides of the reef, but the pain was secondary now. I was afraid of the powerful water and understood how one big wave could tumble me uncontrollably up and down again. I didn’t want to hit my head, please just not my head. I don’t care how scrapped up my hands, feet, arms, and legs are. Just don’t let me bash my head.
Then I saw Jacob. Someone will have to remind me of the religious importance of “Jacob”, or maybe I’ll just Google it. Maybe it’ll be something ironic or just nothing at all. But there he was paddling maddeningly towards me. When I saw his face, I knew I wasn’t being overly dramatic. The look of panic on a trained, professional kayaker as he’s coming to rescue you pretty much doubles your fear. That yes, in fact, you are quite in danger. “I’m coming”, he yelled. “Stay there!” Ha! Stay there, the man says.
I was surprised at my strength in pulling my body across his boat, then swiftly turning my back in between his legs. We pulled my oar perpendicular and he laid his down, too. His arms engulfed me and he held me tight. “I thought I lost you, Lori! Thank you…” Who was he thanking? He didn’t say. But I knew who I was thanking. It was a nice sentiment. He felt like an angel, really, my corporeal angel that hugs me and holds me tight into his chest like something precious.
Blood was streaming down my legs. “Oh, Lori…”, Jacob said remorsefully, as he looked at the damage. “No, no, look…they’re all superficial wounds, “ I said as I made a medical assessment of myself, making sure that what I just said was, in fact, true. I felt a motherly instinct come over me, to let this young man know that I was, in fact, a tough woman and a little bit of streaming blood was nothing to me.
We got to my kayak, and I was dismayed that I had to get back in it on my own. But the new necklace that I was wearing that I had just purchased the week before had one charm on it that said “Fearless”. So I tried to be. We were in calmer waters now and started to paddle towards the little island once more. Jacob let out a line, “Relax, I’ve got you tethered, just stop and I’ll paddle you.” So, I set my oar across my lap, watched my legs bleed and saw that I had started to shiver. “I’m in shock now,” I said to myself. I know the signs, this feeling has happened to me once before. Shivering, a strange exhaustion comes over you – you almost want to stop right there and collapse. I knew I had to stay with it – breath like you’re in yoga. I did that and it helped.
Then I was untethered, and it was time to be fearless. That was not the end of my kayaking adventure, as there was yet another capsizing as we finally got to the little island, but that was minor and almost on shore. More rocks, though, ouch. I did shut down for the rest of the trip, though. I was quiet, reliving the moments. I asked some questions about what I could have done differently – with the first one, nothing. Sometimes the wave will just take you no matter that you are dead into it. For the second one, I didn’t know that I needed to lie back in my seat and push back when you have a wave behind you. If your nose starts to turn, you have to dig back on that side to push yourself the other way. So, at least I’ve learned some important kayaking skills.
We left the little island to go to shore for lunch and a swim. I stayed on shore – and fell asleep. My body and mind could not keep up anymore. Not to mention I’d run 6 miles this morning prior to being picked up for the trip. I was done in. We only had a few hundred yards to paddle after that to return to our launch. It was a nice, calming paddle, a good end to a challenging day. “Thanks for rescuing me.” I told Jacob when I hugged him goodbye. Not only did my physical training save me from more harm, but so did Jacob’s training. Thank God that was the decision that was made.
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