Shit Happens
But mostly when you're slacking
Lucia paddling with glitter and December rain
On Lucia, you, or someone you know in Sweden, paddles out with lights and glitter on their kayak and in their hair. Rainy December usually means calm waters, peace and quiet, and that the most die-hard enthusiasts are there paddling. The weather separates the wheat from the chaff.
An unexpected branch in the eye
So it was again, as so many times before. I was tired and grumpy and took it all as a slightly forced wet paddle. Something you do to keep the family together. No fuss, no hassle. A pair of cover pants, sailing boots from the 70s, and a rain jacket that doubled as a hood.
Somewhere along the way, I needed to adjust my sitting position. I was leaning forward a little and held on to the edge to stay out of the way while I fixed things. Just then, someone shouted something and I turned my head to the left. Maybe 10 seconds. When I turned back, I had a branch from a willow tree in my eye. Or right in front of my eye.
You know how you react when something comes too close to your eyes. Everything is spontaneous and intuitive. I let go of the paddle and grabbed the branch to keep it away. Slowly, the kayak slid with my legs and butt under the branch while my upper body and hands holding the branch remained in place. In an instant, I was slowly pushed backwards over the port side rail, causing the kayak to tilt more and more. No paddle, no grip, no chance of saving the situation. Water is wet, in December it is cold, the evening is dark, but the beach was close.
Even before I ended up in the drink, I cursed the situation, planned where I would go up, and thought about how many of my loosely stowed belongings I would don to the sea, or lake as it were.
I paddled home, disappointed. Wet but not cold. Shit happens. Instead, I had a whiskey and played a little Elden Ring. But first, I told my loved ones that everything was under control.
Silly mistakes bother me more than pushing boundaries
I've capsized unwillingly a bunch of times. But I recognize the patterns. Either I push boundaries or I mess up. The boundary-breaking incidents are OK. I only push (almost always, anyway) when I'm with people who can help me. But it's the clumsy situations that bother me and make me think about myself as a paddler. Because, from certain perspectives, they are more dangerous and unpleasant. They often involve a much higher level of unpreparedness.
Have you also experienced these kinds of “clumsy” mistakes that feel worse than when you consciously push the limits?
Examples
1: Invisible waves from (the huge car ferry) Visby
You have planted the bow of your kayak on a rocky or sandy beach and are about to set off. It is calm, just like on land. Without warning, waves come crashing in from the humongous ferry Visby. Visby is barely audible, so you haven't noticed that she has passed just a few hundred meters behind you. Visby creates stern waves between 1.5 and 2 meters high. First comes the suction that dries out the kayak, often at a slight angle. Then comes a monster wave that throws your packed kayak 5 meters up onto land. The second wave is a little bigger and piggybacks on the fact that there is already water a little way up on land. So it becomes both higher and goes even further. But it doesn't hurl the heavy kayak, instead grabbing it and pulling it out the same way the kayak came in. At high speed. And there you are, lying on the shore, splashing around and thinking you should try to save your carbon fiber paddle. Wrong focus.
2: Square waves
Everyone is surfing in good tailwinds and happy waves right down towards an island. You choose the right side because you know that the wind turns to the left when it passes a land mass. As you approach land, the waves grow a little because it gets shallower, but not more than it just makes it more fun. Your plan is to go into shelter and then turn towards the island, go ashore and have lunch. About 100 meters after the island, you paddle into a system of square waves. Square waves are, in this case, the interference between two wave systems that meet at a 90-degree angle.
Seen from above, they look like squares on the water. They are the most unpredictable waves there are, with peaks that can look like Zermatt and troughs that look the same, but in the opposite direction. It is basically impossible to stay upright in them. And forget about cowboy scramble.
3: Midsummer's brutal sunburn
You're out paddling on Midsummer's Day. The sun is shining and the birds are singing. You're wearing a tank top and sunglasses. And a life jacket, of course. Lunch is eaten in a cove, and some people pluck up the courage to eat lunch shirtless. What a success. Once ashore to set up festivities and tents, EVERYONE has a headache, is bright red, and just wants to go to bed. We're talking scalps and thinning hair. Sore shoulders and tender necks. The backs of our hands and forearms. Not to mention our NOSES. EVERYONE has first-degree burns on more than 10% of their bodies. Everyone is dehydrated and suffering from salt and mineral deficiency. Everyone is hungover before the party has even started.
Safety and the high-risk zone on land
If you've followed this far, you can draw your own conclusions. But I'll return to the idea of false security. It's also in the borderland between water and land that the greatest risks lie. Always consider this area a high-risk zone. The area from where you can stand on the bottom to where the waves cannot reach you. That is where it happens. That is the risk zone. Feel free to play there, but be observant if you are going to dive.
More about square waves
Here are two features about how waves can behave:
//Martin Hauffman
Your wildest maritime moments matter. Your stories of when tranquility met turbulence – they're not just memories, they're lessons that lift us all. Drop your tale in the comments – let's learn, grow, and navigate these waters together!