I don't believe in giving up. If you've thought through everything, if you've charted out every possible course of action and the one that makes the most sense is to turn around, then you're not giving up.
Giving up implies that you let go of reason and simply let what happens happen. It doesn't take much thought. Turning back, however, does.
I set out, yesterday, to go on yet another solo trip. This time, I was going to kayak from the Broken Group Islands to the Deer Group, which lies about 3 nautical miles (5.5 km) SE across Imperial Eagle Channel in Barkley Sound. The trip was to take 5 days, 4 nights, and include crossing this channel twice.
If you have never paddled on the Ocean with swell, let me paint you a picture;
Winds, way out over the vast ocean blow across the surface of the water. Closer in land, this forms Wind Waves, or 'Chop'. Out in the open, though, the energy gets transferred to the water. Over long distances, this picks up and accumulates, creating what we know as 'Swell'. Here in Barkley Sound, we typically have a low (2m) SW Swell going most of the time.
I woke up this morning with the sun, at around 5am, to get myself and my boat ready for this crossing. Fighting Mosquitos and running down the beach to try and escape the cloud of pests for just a moment, I made it on the water for 6:15.
Normally, there is fog before there is sun in the morning out here. The temperatures are moderate and the winds are low. This fog would usually burn off mid morning, early afternoon, or not at all, with the winds picking up as the solar rays heat up the air currents. To wake up with the sun already warming these currents is quite a rarity, and usually leads to higher winds.
After a quick return back to shore to secure the hatch cover I had managed to neglect, I finally entered the channel. Sun in my eyes, targets set along the way, I felt ready. The moderate roll moving against the hull of my boat, I felt like I was flying. It took me a fraction of the time it usually takes me to do 1 mile, as I didn't have a group to set pace for.
It was here that I realized I was clenching my jaw. Normally I talk or sing to myself, but this morning I was silent and focused. The muscles in my neck hurt, and my brow was furrowed. This silence is unnatural to me, and is usually a sign that something is wrong.
I suddenly realized I had been asking myself the same question over and over again;
"Why am I doing this?"
Was I doing this because I wanted to?
Only kind of.
Was I doing this because I needed to?
Slightly, the company I'm working for want to expand our trips and this area is a new option.
Was I doing this to prove something to myself?
I have nothing to prove at this point in time.
Was I doing this to prove something to someone else?
Yes - I would like to look smarter and more competent in the eyes of my guiding partner.
It was now that I noticed the knot in my stomach. I've had gut feelings before, but none this intense. Usually I would brush these off, feeling that I was being overly cautious. But something made this different.
Looking down at my chart, I found the picture of my girlfriend had shifted from the corner it usually lives in, to the middle of the channel. It covered the route I had dotted out in pencil, looking up at me with a smile, and with hope.
It was here that I had an epiphany about my past trips.
I had done them to be alone, and to solve my life problems. My last solo trip was shortly after my parents had separated. I already felt intensely alone, so being in the forest without another soul in sight didn't feel much different from every day life.
But life had changed since then. My real friends had made themselves known, my family had found the road to recovery, and I had someone who would go to the ends of the earth just to make me smile.
The risks I used to be willing to take - the ones that made people feel I was "crazy"for doing some of the trips I've done, were no longer acceptable. There was no justification I could find to proceed. Though the skills necessary were present, sense is not something being able to roll your kayak gives you.
It changes things when you realize that you matter to people. Even in the darkest throws of my depressions, when I felt most alone, I look back and realize that people cared and were willing to be there for me.
People make all the difference. Looking ahead, I saw the swell had grown, and there was more chop forming beyond my rocky sanctuary. I imagined myself later in the week, having to make this crossing again, and potentially in worse conditions, without my handrail of rocks. Had I had another paddler with me, I would have proceeded. Another heart to share the experience with. A hand ready to help if I needed it. But that hand was not present. The only hands available were my own. So I used them to turn my boat around.
I am still grappling with this, as I have never pulled the plug on a trip. But, for now, I know I have made the best choice I could make. Perhaps I will return with a paddling partner at the end of the summer. For now, I will wait till I have someone to have my back.
Never hesitate to ask the right questions. Even if it means facing ridicule, disappointment or judgement, know in your heart that there's a reason to listen to yourself. Your safety isn't worth jeopardizing simply for a story.
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