How hard do you push before it's too far?

We did a really hairy Buffels Run today. 

The wind was blowing hard, in excess of 30kts at Roman Rock, but wind that strength is not normally an issue - in fact a Millers Run is hardly worth it if the wind isn't blowing that hard.

What was different today was the swell - it was coming in from the SE so, although it wasn't forecast to be very big (8.5-11ft at  6sec) it was coming straight into the bay - normally the deep sea swell is SW.

On our way to Buffels Bay we could see that the swells were big and that they were breaking hard - not just white horses blown off the crests of waves - these were big breakers.  And we could see that the conditions off each of the points - Millers, Partridge, were really wild.  Even the reef in the middle of Smitswinkel Bay was working spectacularly.  We resolved to stay well offshore!

The first section of the paddle - from Buffels Bay to Partridge Point is in a roughly NNE direction i.e. 90 degrees on to the prevailing wind and waves.  Why the heck do it?  The answer is that Dawid Mocke and I  (with any luck) are off to Hawaii in May to do the Molokai Crossing.  The Millers Run, great fun as it is, is only 12.5km long - simply not long enough for a good training session.  The Buffels run is also not long enough - but it is at least 22km and about as far as one can safely go after work at this time of the year before it gets too dark. Besides, "if you're going to do Molokai," said Dawid, "you need to spend some time in rough water..."

So Buffels Run it was. 

Buffels to Partridge Point

We headed straight out from the ramp and as I paddled, I realised that there was something wrong with the ski...  Oh s#$t!, I'd leant the ski (the Red7) to someone else on Sunday and they'd adjusted the footplate - and I'd forgotten to put it back.  So the ski was adjusted about 4cm too short for me.  My knees were sticking up in the air and I was feeling much less stable that usual.  

Why didn't I go back to the ramp & sort it out?  Damo had already gone about 100m in front of me out to sea and I couldn't face wasting the five minutes that it would take - I was conscious enough of the time  and the sinking sun.

We headed out a kilometre or two, and then turned north, parallel to wind and waves.  The wind wasn't too strong - but the waves were interesting...  It wasn't so much the fact that they were knocking the ski sideways - it was the occasional breakers that made it intense.  You couldn't tell when they'd rear up and there seemed to be no pattern to them.  In places there seemed to be a reef - the waves were breaking consistently in the one area - and we'd make our way out to sea and around that area.  Damo was finally hit by a wave that he said reared up over his head and dumped on him.  He yelled, braced hard and somehow stayed on his ski.

As time went on we turned slightly west of north and started to pick up small runs that took us at 90 degrees to the swell - this was interesting, and if it hadn't been for the size and unpredictability of the swells, it would have been fun.  As it was, I was working them simply to get out of the area...

Partridge to Millers

We took Partridge Point well wide to avoid the maelstrom of broken water around the rocks.

We were beginning to catch fairly sizeable runs, but again I found myself paddling conservatively because of the strength of the side chop - every run was a crashing, bumping, bracing affair and I wasn't stringing runs together very well.  I caught a couple where I was able to extend them by paddling hard onto the next dip, but mostly I was being whacked from the side, bracing, wallowing and starting again.

Damian was on the inside of me upsun and I kept losing sight of him in the glare.  Finally, just before Millers, I lost him altogether and never saw him again until just outside Fish Hoek. 

Millers Point

The most intense part of all was when we reached the vicinity of Millers Point - the beginning of the Millers Run.  I had intended to hit the lap button on my GPS to record a Millers Run but I was too far out to sea and never even saw Bakoven Rock.

Just before we got there, a set of truly enormous waves came through.  On a normal Millers run when you catch up to really big wave, a valley opens up before you and you paddle like a maniac to try to catch the swell that's coming up behind you.  The sea seems to flatten out and a broad slope fills the horizon.

Well this set of waves was just like that - only they were the biggest waves I have ever contemplated.  Judging by the length of the ski, the faces of these waves were massive - as in 2 or 3 boat lengths. 

My paddling shorts were about to change colour - for the nth time - when I realised that the monsters weren't actually breaking, but they were just on the edge and I think there must be a shallow spot on the seabed right there.  At any rate, I didn't catch any of them.  I think I may have caught a small wave swell and gone down the face of one of them, but again I was just thinking about getting away from that area.

The squall

Then came the most intense moment of the lot.  I was hit by a squall that was so strong that I stopped paddling and just sat on my ski thinking about survival.  I'd lost sight of Damo some minutes earlier and just hoped that he was OK.  I figured that I should just keep the nose of the ski downwind, avoid coming off if I could and if I had to, I'd just sit there until I came in at Muizenburg or wherever the wind took me.  I thought about how bad I'd feel if I ended up calling for help - I've called the NSRI twice in my paddling career, both times for other people.  I'd texted in an ETA to the Simonstown NSRI of 6h50pm to get to Fish Hoek and I knew that if I didn't paddle I'd soon be overdue and both they and my wife would be anxious.  And it was getting late.

All these thoughts were swirling through my mind - but curiously I wasn't actually afraid.  I think the experience of many Millers Runs, other occasions where I really have been terrified, and the NSRI exercise that we did on Sunday all helped. 

I can't really describe what it was like.  The wind was far stronger than Saturday's paddle when I know that we were in 40kts, gusting 45.  That was just fun.  This was not.  The surface of the sea was milky white, like whipped egg white.  Small but ferocious chop was running in all directions and on top of it all, big swells were coming from behind.  I inadvertently picked up some runs on the big swells - not that I was paddling - and tried to extend them as far as I could.  Even bracing wasn't simple - the bumps in the water kept hitting the paddle - usually the blade just runs along the surface of the water - but the sea was so rough and so covered with bumps that my arm kept getting whacked - and that would slow us down and I'd be wrenched sideways.

Eventually, thankfully, the wind eased and I started paddling again, angling in towards shore to try to make Simonstown if necessary. 

Damo said afterwards that he had had a similar experience in the squall and could see me a lot further out to sea - he was worried that I was going to blown right out to sea (which actually would have meant coming ashore to the north of Fish Hoek somewhere like Muizenberg). 

The rest

And the rest was really quite anti-climactic.  The wind died to mere gale (or so it seemed) and the waves sorted themselves out and became much more regular, and the paddle turned into a classic Millers Run.

As I approached Fish Hoek, a figure on a white ski appeared from my right - Damian!  I was mightily relieved, both that he hadn't left me far behind and also that he hadn't come off somewhere far behind.

We diced into Fish Hoek bay and although he caught one run that I didn't and got ahead, he broached in the surf, and staggered in sideways, leaving me to triumph with a better line into the clubhouse!  (Not that we're competitive or anything.)

Dawid, showered, changed, ski tucked into its rack, came down to help me carry the ski up.  "How was that?" I asked.  "The most intense Buffels Run I've ever done!" was the reply.

Retrospective

"Interesting but not necessarily very pleasant"?

Damo & I agreed that perhaps we'd pushed the envelope a little far on this one.  The big waves at the beginning were a lottery - we could easily have been taken out. Sure we’re used to falling out and no doubt we’d have got back in again – but the water was cold tonight and we were a long way from help.  More than that, it just wasn’t fun…

And that squall was really beyond a joke. 

But, aaargh, after Millers Point, after the squall, when the seas straightened out again, it was fun.  It was fabulous and I guess that’s what’ll keep us coming back again and again for more.

(Jeez, I wish I'd had the helmet cam with me tonight!) 

According to my GPS track I got up to 39kph on a wave about a km after the lighthouse.  Normally I'm sceptical about such spikes on the trace - but this spike has wide shoulders and you can see my heart rate declining as my speed increases.  I remember going down a sequence of monster waves at about this time so all the circumstantial evidence confirms it.  Of course Big O and the other guys regularly get up to such speeds in big downwinds, but that's the fastest I've ever been by miles.  (I got up to 30kph last Saturday.)