La Perouse glide

La Perouse glide
Some people call it a float, others call it a paddle, others still call it a downwind, but I would rather call it a blissful glide. After consulting the local conditions at sea, I did not need convincing for a sortie at sea from Malabar to Maroubra and back. It was a bit fresh as the thermometer recorded 8.5C in the car as I headed to the launching boat ramp. A few additional layers would not go astray to offer some protection against hypothermia which I am subject to as I go not have extra natural insulation myself. As I was securing the ‘strongest leg leash in the world’ to my ankle, I felt a bit secure, particularly after I saw a hug way smash to dizzy heights at the Malabar headland, nevertheless I felt that utmost respect was due as they don’t call it Malabar for no reason, there has been two whip wrecks at the headland in the past 100 years, the Goolgwai and MV Malabar, hence the name.
As I left the boat ramp and approached the entrance of Long Bay, I could feel that the powerful swell as the ski started to react underneath me. I quickly reassessed the situation as a south easterly created a messy and confused condition and I decided to change plans and instead head towards the entrance of Botany Bay in search of the view that commandant La Perouse would have had as he was approaching a large mass of land. The initial excitement of surfing the back of the swell quickly phased out as I settled into a rhythm and soon as the pace picked up enough for me to feel a slight breeze going past my cheeks. The swell slowly turned into a rolling mountain of water coming from the opposite direction and at times an even bigger mountain reared up. It was bliss as I connected with the elements and the mind was at rest. There is no time for any other thought than keep afloat, listening to noises around you even thought there was not much going on other than the ripples. It is hard describe to the uninitiated the exhilaration of connecting with the craft and the sea, combining my velocity with the awesome power of the ocean. There was hardly any wind, yet I was cruising at ease as the coastline shaped up in the rising sun. At one stage a large albatross with a high wingspan swooped above to check me out, I uttered ‘God’, it may well have been Him? And soon, a large flock of mutton birds joined the dance, it was a unison of waltzing birds and a gliding surf ski with me on top, but where was the music, it was pretty quiet out there… I felt one with elements. The view of the Botany Bay headland was amazingly rugged and beautiful! I saw a large ship moored inside the bay and a quick check left and right to make sure there was no other vessel approaching, this is a seriously busy shipping lane, as I often see a large number of ships parked on the horizon, must be a traffic jam somewhere.
The journey back was as just as exciting as I was now moving with the mountain this time and I can tell you, it was high close to Port Botany and a quick check of the satellite map reveals why… check it out! The sandstone cliffs had lit up by now to a golden orange glow, lucky I had my sunnies, I spotted a few markers such as the Prince of Wales hospital at Little Bay, just to make sure I was on track to my port of origin. Negotiating around a few reefs was a challenge and heaps of fun… It was a truly unique experience and I encourage others to face learn how to paddle an ocean ski so that you too can see what I saw… Mind you, you will have to face your inner fears, but once you do, you will be amazed as to how together and grounded you feel during and after a glide like this one! The landing was weird as I set foot at the boat ramp, I had difficulty adjusting again to my body weight for a few seconds… wobbly legs!
It’s funny, but at some point in the expedition, I had a thought for what Tony Abbott had said earlier : “marriage should be between a woman and a man”… But what about between a man and his kayak?! It so happened that when I returned home, my wife felt a bit of a kayak widow saying “where have you been for 2 hours?”. I was so phased out and still on a high when I responded ‘it did not feel that long darl’.
Jean

Wednesday 2 September 2015

Launched from Malabar boat ramp at 6am this morning with an orange glow on the horizon. Leg leash on, PFD tight, waves pounding the headland as if there was no tomorrow. Windguru forecasting 2m swell hardly any wind, great conditions to surf and watch sunrise all at once. I could not work out the direction of the swell until I was well clear of the turbulence of the entrance of Long Bay, I guess I can say I've done my time at Long Bay now... The swell was deep, powerful and almost easterly to south easterly and would change all the time. I was in heaven surfing the back of the swell and the uplift was exhilarating but the acceleration on the other face of the wave was even better. I paddled 20 minutes out, saw a heavenly sunrise whilst gliding for 25m, it does not get any better, I was in my elements again after a long hibernation during the cold months. I will not refrain from mentioning brands as I am not a fan of product placement... suffice to say that my ocean ski will not win racing but it is stable for my skill level, surfs well, is forgiving and glides in and out of rough conditions with the confidence of a sloop. It does not bury the bow in downwind and in big conditions just unassumingly becomes alive and takes care of itself. I would not say self righting, but if you let go of your hip natural rigidity or lift your bum it will self correct

Oon the way back, my frieng William came to say hello, I just christened him William, fit for a king with a 1m wing span. William the albatross swoop towards me from the opposite direction this time to makwe sure I am not scared and it was bliss. When you are in the deep blue and you see another living creature (from above!), you connect at a spiritual level. I smiled and I was happy. Land disappeared and reappeared in a regular monotony but the swell was too big for me to surf, I barely made 8 km/hr but who cares, was I in a hurry to get back?! well problem is work always gets in the way of a good paddle.I made a perfect landing at the boat ramp a bit like the Challenger landing after launching a satellite in orbit.

I had a great day at work today, nothing phased me. My colleague looked at his watch and said in french "tu es tres en retard" and I apologised to him and said "nothing beats watching sunrise in 2m swell whilst surfing", he smiled and continued his work... others around him smiled too!

Jean

First solo downwind : Malabar to Coogee


Last saturday all the conditions that avid downwind paddlers look for were gathered during a sunny and moderately windy day: 20 knots southerly and 1.5 to 2m southerly swell. A few SMS exchanges to my paddling buddies did not have any takers, so I decided to do it solo. It took a bit of convincing for my lovely wife (who was in the middle of a uni assignment) to agree to pick me up at 4:15pm in front of the Coogee Pavillon. Launching from the Malabar boat ramp was around 3:15, I figured than given the conditions, one hour was feasible. I was relaxed and excited as if I was doing an Ocean Series race, except I was the only competitor... A perfect line was maintained as the starting pistol went off! I settled into a slow rythm as I punched through oncoming swell for the first 20 minutes heading in a south easterly direction until I could line up Coogee beach and the swell was going in a general northerly direction. It was like a warm up to to the marker except there was none. I knew when to turn, it's just I had to convince myself to keep grinding for a bit longer and that the reward would be bigger. And indeed it was. Pure rolling southerly swell with occasional breaking ones which are loud to the point where I had to look backwards to check behind me apprehensively. I managed to catch a 30m run just after Maroubra. The swell tend to run into bays and beaches, it took me a while to work at that I should not battle the elements and trust that the currents will turn before the the Maroubra headlands as I was getting sucked towards the beach. All you need to do is FOCUS, read the ocean and turn into 'holes' as my favorite paddler would say. Sometimes, the holes can be linked and this is when the acceleration is what you want to aim for, using the power of the ocean whilst going momentarily faster. It's a feeling that is quite hard to describe other than when a golfer hits the ball right, there is a distinct sound as the ball darts through the air in a slightly curved trajectory... You know that you have nailed it and I sometimes have that feeling and yes, my wife sometimes compares herself to a golf widow. Why! I always come back home!?

At one stage, a thumping wave broke behind me and made me think of the ski paddler who got taken out by a shark a few days ago. Before I knew it, I was in the drink and hastily scrambled back in my set before recomposing myself. Blocking the negative thought made me enjoy blissful surfing all the way to Coogee. The dome of the Pavillon was my beacon, and to get there was a matter of going with the flow, bearing in mind that the currents will follow the topography of the coastline and the ocean floor and occasionally a freak wave would show up.

Caught some great runners around Wedding Cake island all the way to Coogee beach. As I was walking to the esplanade, I was hoping that my wife would be waiting as I am subject to hypothermia if I am not careful. I smiled as I spotted her car and the heart warming smiles of my adorable boys lifted me up and made me forget the weight on my shoulders... THey saw their (crazy)daddy arrive from the ocean. Warm clothes awaited me, I had a great afternoon and a lovely father's day the next day... A nice glass of 10 year old Cote du Rhone never tasted so nice! Here's to those who dare.

If anyone would like to join me on the next downwind, that would be fantastic, as we could leave a car at each end and share the fun all around. I intend to set up a facebook page to that effect, wonder how much interest that would generate.

A bientot,

Jean

Tuesday 8 September 2015 - La Perouse Gazette

We could all have been French citizens if commandant Jean-François de Galaup, comte de Lapérouse had not been distracted whislt stoppin for supplies at 'Ile de France', a former French colony, now known as the Republic of Mauritius. The distraction turned out to be his future wife, and as a result of the slight delay (2 weeks), another explorer, Captain James Cook reached the south east coast of Australia in 19 April 1770. We would be referring to our beloved surfski as 'le kayak' and we would have had to have lifelines hanging on the top day as they do in France now... No a bad idea, considering that if you get thrown at sea, you either don't have a leg leash or the leg leash breaks... a few things to ponder upon. Ocean ski race starts would have looked a bit like the start of the 'Le Mans race'..."A vos marques..."!!!

Setting out of Malabar last Tuesday heading to the entrance of Long Bay, it felt like a big south easterly swell was ponding the surrounding cliffs and judging by the height of the ensuing splash, it was not to be messed with. To the right of the entrance is a reef where you occasionally see extremely competent surfers get towed by jet ski. But today there was none, despite the decent surf.

Ocean ski enthusiasts often speak of downwind as being the ultimate experience, I totally agree after having watched footage of the Tahiti race, Maraamu. Hopefully Sebastien, I will be there one day, with my son in a double ski. He is still too young and has only just learned how to swim... It looks like a great race to be part of, just as I long to do the Mauritius Ocean Classic. Dominique is such a great host and organiser. See you soon mate.

Back to the southerly high seas... I was having a lot of fun surfing the back of the big swell and experience a fair bit of G force as the wave lifts the craft rapidly and quickly drops you accelerating towards the next wave. I was imagining being able to surf back to port for great distances. Disappointment as the swell was just too big and too fast or was I too slow and not skilled enough to muster the raw power that I was sitting on. You also become increasing humbled as you realise that it is a privilege to be able to appreciate moments like this whilst having fun. Respect and focus are of order at all times. This is what makes the sport a total body and mind experience. This is also why one feels light headed, relaxed, happy after experiencing big conditions. You get thrown around, you surf, you push yourself to what you think is your limit at that time, you connect with the elements and become one, there is no time for the mind to wander and have negative thoughts. In fact there is not much time for thoughts, there is already too much to take in: waves left right and centre, wind gusts, sea life, birds swooping, whales (!), dolphins and occasionally the leading actor of a summer blockbuster...

Making my way back, I had to take a wide course away from the reefs as they were being pounding as if there is no tomorrow and I wanted to see tomorrow. Rounding the headlands in big seas, one gets reminded of how difficult it would have been for the mariners of sailing ships of old and why there are many ship wreckage littering the coastline.

Walking up the ramp carrying my ski, I have a sense of affection for this piece of composite resin, for it has taken me to places where I may not have otherwise been able to experience, where most would find uninviting. The blemishes and scratches on the hull never looked so stylish and the craft that I wanted to chuck for the latest design and do what most paddlers do, we 'upgrade' as we build up some skills and want to go faster, harder, beat our friends and fellow race competitors. I have now convinced myself or was it the craft that convinced me like the sad puppy that we drop at the RSPCA, that I should keep it a little longer and enjoy wild conditions in a float that can take it. Maybe it's me that should learn from the masters who to catch big swell, how not to broach and swamp the cockpit. So many questions, so much paddling to do, so little time.

Oh! I better ready to go to work now! Bugger!

Au revoir~

Jean

La Perouse Gazette, 12 Septembre 2015

"Au secours" (trans. "HELP")

When I mention that I paddle in the ocean between 8 and 20 kilometres on a surski, amongst the questions that I often get asked are "Aren't you afraid of sharks?", "Have you ever seen a shark?", "What about if you fall off?".

One would note that the central theme of ALL these questions is the perception of danger and the fear than infiltrates the mind based on hearsay, journalist bombarding us tirelessly with shark stories at every start of spring, I noticed that they come out without fail in line with wattles in full bloom. Let me tell you a few things that I have learnt from personal experience in dealing with my own fear and a few dangerous situations that I have encountered and I wish I do not EVER put myself in...

It's weird, but some days I don't feel like venturing out of the headlands. Those days, I would paddle in protected waterways, I would skim the turbulent backwash but cannot convince myself to do an ocean paddle. Why, would you ask? During those days, I don't usually feel like my usual self, something is on my mind, and that something is so overbearing that my usual excitement of heading for yet another ocean expedition is no longer present. I would still be enjoying catching small runs but a little voice is telling me that it is too dangerous to head out, I do not have enough competence. I deliberately leave my leg leash or life jacket home to make sure that I don't venture out. I am a prisoner of my own fears and I get a lot less enjoyment or workout from a similar session on good days!

On the other hand, when I feel good about myself, the only thing that would stop me from setting out at sea are the elements. I would be scrutinising Seabreeze.com.au and Windguru.cz days in advance and as I approach my favorite launching spot, I feverishly look out for currents, wind direction. I imagine myself surfing big waves, I am fearless. Those are the days that I have the most fun, I am connected and attentive to the elements, it becomes easier to harness the power of the ocean whilst being cognisant of what is real danger and I am in control of my mind letting fearful thoughts come as they do and let them continue on their own journey without necessarily acting on them. When I approach a bombora, I stay well clear whilst another part of me wants to get in as close as possible, I am able to discern clearly present danger without the interference of fear.

I have been meandering in the harbours and ocean for about 12 years now, my most enjoyable paddles have without fail been in the ocean. I do not pay attention to the statistics of the odds of me encountering a shark, I am there to have fun whilst being respectfully humble of mother nature accepting me as a visitor. How many sharks have I seen in that time? One tiny fin during the Narrabeen to Palm beach Ocean Classic and another time I actually plunged my paddle into an outgoing huge bugger who fortunately could not be bother to abuse the hell out of me cause it just had a feed beforehand

It so happened that my paddling buddy of the time wanted to experience ocean swell for the first time. I took her under my wing and we took off one early summer morning just after dawn and paddled towards the Sydney Harbour Heads. Nothing out of the norm to be weary of, just enjoyable on coming swell, which was a new experience for my friend. She was getting into the swing of things and I was happy to see her grin as we started to make out way in the ocean. At that moment, it was like we stepped into the set of "The Birds", there were birds that I have not seen before, a lot of them and they were madly swooping in all direction over a large area into which we had inadvertently ventured. We became like part of the set. We looked at each other wondering what was going on. I knew but did not want to scare her, so I suggested that we stayed clear of the frenzy and just as we did it became clear that there was a large school of fish moving along the cliffs and that got the birds into a spin. We could see where the school was heading. We did a large loop in the ocean and decided that it might be best to head back. Unfortunately, the school had the same idea and they beat us to it. By the time we were going between the Heads, they were already inside the Harbour and had been surrounded by a fleet of recreational fishermen who were reeling in Australian Salmon like the twelve apostles. Once again, I suggested to my friend that we stayed clear of the commotion. But in doing that, we were paddling purposefully in a decent rhythm. I remember vividly that at one point at I was preparing for the catch (!), as the blade wind underwater, I felt some thing soft on the surface whilst rather firm underneath, but importantly extremely powerful. It was moving in the opposite direction to the school and to myself. As it went past, it pushed my paddle out of the way with a brutal force, so brutal that my ski changed course. I muttered "Merdes... what was that?!!!" My friend turned around and I strongly urged her to keep paddling and not to look back. I did not see anything, but I certainly felt, I can still imaging how big it would have been to manhandle me the way it did. It did not apologised to me, the rude thing, It must have had a tummy full of salmon and was probably heading for its hammock down in the deep blue. I have not seen it again ever since. I am sure that it must be bigger, bolder and hopefully not as rude. I do not wish to mingle in its company.

In the same timeframe, I have encountered 9 whales, paddled through a large pod of dolphins in a feeding frenzy, surfed large swell at The Gap in the company of 5 dolphins all around and under my ski, I have spent half an hour with a resting 30m humpback in Long Bay, paddled through 30 knots and 4m+ swell at Barrenjoey Point. All of these experiences were enthralling, some of them clearly outright dangerous, others just mesmerisingly dazzling!

It is clearly up to each and everyone of us to discern what is fear versus danger, but I would not dismiss the impact that either has in our daily life, let alone out paddling experience. My advice is listen to your little voice, and if you see yourself turning back to see what's behind and your hear "Jaws" music in your head, it is better if you stuck to ping pong on that particular day.

Bonne journee,

Jean

How I got into ocean paddling


La Perouse Gazette - 15 Septembre 2915

Approximately 10 years ago, I made the switch from sea kayaks to ocean skis starting on a hybrid surf ski to ultimately making my way through a pletora of ocean skis from various manufacturers, trying different variants and construction material.

When I first sat on the hybrid ski and made my first attempt to paddle, I felt like an infant, whose mum had let go of his hand and was being urged to keep trying to make my first steps. There were many falls and trips (!), I quickly learned the artful way of getting back on your ski after being thrown off in wild seas like an rodeo rider. Initially, it felt like a mistake to have sold the kevlar sea kayak, I felt secure in the cockpit, particularly after sliding into the neoprene spray skirt as it kept my lower body reasonably dry and most importantly warm in winter paddles. And here I am, sitting precariously high above the waterline on a craft barely wider than my hips. I for one, am always up for a challenge and boy did I have a challenge on my hands. after remounting 3-6 times particular whilst being battered by waves, I became aware that I had to go back to the drawing board...

One day, I came across a man standing on the beach whilst a bunch a fit paddlers on skinner ocean skis performing a drill. it looked to the uninitiated like a conductor directing a chamber orchestra as it was done with such precision and with not a lot of words. I could not resist but to walk up to him and have a chat. Little did I know that this man was one of the best ocean paddlers in the world, a world champion who I later found out had won 10 Molokai races. He greeted my with a smile and I expressed my interest in the sport and he gave me a few good tips gratuitously and suggested that I take some lessons and get the technique right and then practice as much as possible, 'time on the water' were the operative words. I took his advice on board and got myself into a paddling schools for 2 months and have not stopped learning up to this day. I am not sure why I chose to be coached by another paddling great, but to this day, I always remember what he said particularly in rough conditions... He won the Coolangatta Gold a few times and knew everything there is to know about paddling, he also won the Molokai. On that particular day, he said "Close your eyes, and on my whistle, start paddling until the next whistle, but I want you to feel where the power is in your stroke". This is after he had showed us the different steps of the stroke. This little experiment was an eye opener as I found out that the catch is really important, locking your feet, legs, rotating your hips, but importantly only the first part of the stroke brings all the power, and if you keep the blade in the water too long, for example, past your knees, you start to slow down the craft.

Countless hours were spend drilling the techniques, countless hours were also spend in the water, countless hours have been spent remounting the boat, even more spent test paddling different crafts in the search for the ultimate speed machine whilst my technique was probably fair to medium or poor to fair, depending on who the judge was (!)... I had become seriously addicted to ski paddling and my initial objective was simple, stay up right, paddle a few kilometres, catch a few runs, the normal stuff. Once I managed to stay afloat and had learnt how to remount whilst conserving energy for the good stuff (like paddling), I became even more addicted. I started getting fit, seriously fit, competitive and then something interesting happened over a period of 6 to 12 months. My body started to become toned and my upper body bulked up. Sadly (for some), I was spending a phenomenal amount of time on the water (like everyday), my ski was permanently strapped to the roof of my car, I started dodging the harbour ferries, in the search for more challenges. I found myself checking Seabreeze several times per day, Wind Guru just to make sure there was no conflicting information. I learnt how to read the ocean and this was perhaps the defining factor. Being respectful to mother nature, knowing my limits (which I crossed a few times, got scared and will never do again!), knowing how to harness the phenomenal power of the ocean whilst exploring our amazing waterways and coastline.

One morning, I took off from the Spit and as I paddled towards the Grotto, there was an uncanny feeling that something was a bit funny. I was experiencing bigger and bigger swell way back and that was unusual. As I turned around the point at the Grotto, the oncoming swell was pretty serious. I asked myself "Should I keep going?" with my heart pounding in my chest and adrenaline flowing through my veins... my guts ultimately took over, saying "sorry head but let me handle this...". I followed a few diehard paddlers into the pounding swell which by the time we reached Middle Head was probably 2-3m. At this spot was a paddler resting with feet dangling on either side of his ski. We exchanged a few words and he told me that he had been surfing from the Heads to Middle Harbour and this was probably his 6th time. I asked him if I could come with him, he said "let me look at your bow", then I got the nod of approval. It was not about my ability to handled the conditions, it was a question of whether my ski could slice into the oncoming swell/wave and wind all the way to the Heads. The wind was between 25-30 Easterly and the swell across the ferry channel 3-4. There had been a cyclone overnight and the swell had peaked at 10 metre at midnight... I found out when I got back to shore... So, we battled the elements all the way to our destination. The rise and fall onto each wave was sensational, bit like paddling out through surf, except that the surf zone was much longer, only the top of the waves were occasionally breaking, the rain and blistering wind created a thunderous and permanent roar in my ear. It was pointless to shout at each other, as despite the fact that we were paddling within meters of each other, we could not hear a thing of what we were muttering to each other. When we reached the Heads, I slowed down and started to turn around whilst my paddling companion kept going. He was looking for the bigger swell well into the half way mark inside the Heads. I was thinking to myself, "how insane is this guy?!". Little did I know how insane I was myself with what I was about to experience. To this day I have not experienced it, not that I have not been seeking it, but it's just that the conditions have not lined up the way it did on that unforgettable day.

I started to paddle hard with the swell and started to catch the runs and it was starting to be insanely fast. The faster I paddled down the face of the swell, the faster I was catching up to the wave ahead of me, until the point were all of a sudden, I was sitting on this large body of fast moving water and every seemed to stop moving all around me. It felt like I was surfing really fast over 50 to 100 m. I had no idea how fast I was moving until a yacht was coming in the opposite direction and I went past Dobroyd Head and land was moving in the distance. I had just experienced the ultimate surfing experience. When the ski started to slow down, I had a massive grin on my face, my feet were tingling, my head buzzing, I was in surfing paradise.

I got ready for work, went to work a bit light headed, feet still tingling. This lasted the whole day... I so wish that I will experience this again, as it is strange that I remember it so vividly as if it was yesterday and I still feel the excitement just putting words on paper. If only, my words do justice to how of I felt on that day?

By the way, I almost forgot to mention that the other bug that bit me was participating in a lot of ocean paddling competition. The buzz of the starting line, the camaraderie of the finishing line or even better having a beverage or two with your fellow paddlers exchanging personal experiences were very stimulating. These days I paddling mostly on my own as it is too hard to line up other people, we have become too busy to paddle... sad. But then again, you can't live in an ocean ski and I understand that the cost of living, let alone the cost of real estate, mean that more and more people paddle less due to demanding economic pressures... now that is very sad. I urge myself at times to take a break and not rush to work early but rather seek the excitement of paddling the ocean, watching sunrise whilst surfing the back of oncoming swell, watch a school of silvery garfish jump out of the water at the bow, be following flying fish into the sun rising. catching swell with dolphins or paddling alongside mother and calf whales for what seemed an eternity...

Go out there, get some coaching lessons in paddling, practice, be safe, there is a prize awaiting for you...

Jean