Bigbend Area Paddlers' Network

02/17/02 Shell Island: Fun in the surf.

The plan had been to meet at the Boat Ramp. Awilda called my cell number, having arrived at the park more than two hours early, (9:00 am Tallhassee time), to tell us the boat ramp was closed. I politely never asked if perhaps she got the change of time zones turned around, (an hour later, rather than earlier?). The boat ramp parking lot was open and it was a somewhat longer-than-I-like carry to a beachy area nearby that turned out to be an otherwise fine place to launch. At this time, there were few park visitors or boats and the channel crossing was so easy and unthreatening as to be almost a disappointment. Several sources had led us to believe the distance was far greater than it was. At least one person said it was a 1/2 hour crossing. He/she must have been paddling a fully loaded coal barge against a 40 knot headwind because in our ordinary kayaks we crossed in just a little over 5 minutes. As we approached the jetty the wind and sea steadily rose and the turbulence near the end made for a bit of excitement. There was enough surf to make landing on the beach more fun than any of those stupid amusement park rides on the strip. Slackers that we are, most of us idly allowed the surf to coast us into the beach but Larry, (no relation to the friend of Curly and Moe), being more enterprisng, seized the opportunity to accomplish three important tasks; He tested the sea water, later assuring us that it was suitable for swimming. He practiced his eskimo roll, learning that only 1/2 of a roll can be accomplished in water less than 2 feet deep and, last but not least, he found out that his snazzy deck bag does indeed hold water, (unfortunately it seems to hold water *in* more effectively than *out*). After a fine long stroll on the beautiful, nearly deserted beach and a pleasant lunch we noticed that the wind had picked up some more and the surf had increased accordingly. We watched a solo kayaker launch. He put only the bow of his boat at the surf line, boarded, fitted his skirt in place, waited for a nice wave, scooted gently into the surf and paddled effortlessly through and beyond the surf zone in a few short minutes. "Hey, no sweat", we thought aloud. "That's much easier than landing." . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I think the decent thing to do at this point is to refrain from describing the comedy that followed. After we finally set back out to sea and rounded the jetty we paddled and walked along the bay side of the island following the tracks of at least one very large buck and some very healthy racoons. I collected one of those nice big $50 dock bumpers that had escaped from some fancy yacht to take home and maybe use as a buoy on my lake and we found thousands of urchins and sand dollars. One of those hugh "dolphin watch" cattle boats passed by packed with very disappointed people looking for any sign of life in the water. At no time on the entire trip did we see so much as the flash of a distant fin. Evidently someone had warned the dolphins that we were coming and in the interest of their own safety, they had vacated the area for the day. The return crossing came closer to living up to the expectations we had been given. The traffic had increased and we had to wait quite a while for a more or less safe opportunity to cross. We made it without incident and were soon back at the boat ramp parking area trying to decide what to do for dinner. Liz Sparks' had suggested the St. Andrews Marina area so we went there and strolled around a bit but I guess the restauranteurs and bar owners had been warned of our visit and, in the interest of their own safety, closed up for the evening. Very disappointed at missing happy hour at Topless Tan Fannies, we settled for the only restaurant open in the vicinity. It wasn't oysters and the waiters wore shirts but the food was good and the view of the sunset breathtaking. I for one, had a GREAT time! Michael Lampman lampman@newact.com

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