> Stories, I want paddling stories, I miss Santa Cruz, banana slugs, fog,
> food, coastal denizens/citizens. oh , your boat,looks good. trailer looks
> good too. more stories, waiting at dah beach.

I haven't been paddling very long, but I do have a story for you...

On my first test of the kayak trailer, I was so sure everything was going to work just fine that I was in my wetsuit and ready to go. So when the wheel fell off the trailer, I was really bummed (Santa Cruz expression). I threw the kayak on the roof of the car and headed down. My wife and her sister were down at "ITS Beach" next to the lighthouse, where dogs are allowed off leash, and were waiting for me and wondering what had happened.

When I got there, I saw that conditions weren't great. I usually launch at Cowell's Beach, under the Dream Inn (now called the Santa Cruz West Coast Hotel-dumb name) where even on big wave days, launches are no problem. ITS Beach, though, usually has bigger waves. I still haven't learned to roll (waiting for our Baja trip this spring where the water's warm), so the five to six footers were looking pretty imposing. But I came to paddle, so I was going paddling, dammit.

The waves at ITS aren't just big, they come in at alternating angles. As I set up to launch, with my wife and her sister trying to give me a push for a faster entrance, the first wave came in and turned the boat sideways. I rode it in, leaning into the wave wo the boat wouldn't tip. The women grabbed the boat to help straighten it out before the next wave coming from the other side, but it was too late. That one hit me and almost rolled me onto the sand. I was laughing by now (never a good sign), but I stayed up and rode the backwash down the beach right into wave number three. I crashed through it as its five foot height came over the bow and landed right in my lap. The spray skirt popped and 5 or 10 gallons went into the boat. I paddled hard, pulling through two more waves, and by now there was at least 100 # of water in the boat. The chop was at least a foot high, and every swell that hit sloshed the water around, threatening to tip the boat. Realizing that I didn't have my pump with me (flew off the boat on the freeway last month), I had no choice but to sit there and bail the boat by hand.

So here I am, sitting 100 feet off Seal Rock, with my hands cupped, tossing water out the side of the cockpit for the next 15 minutes. But the sun is going down on the water, the sky is blazing red (the fires in Big Sur really coloring the sky), and I'm very much alive and happy about it. Looks like it's time to go down and by another self-rescue kit...