Getting Centered
Me on my board last month off Sugar Beach, Kihei. Photo by Chettie White.
FEBRUARY 28, 2021, KIHEI, MAUI— The smooth, shiny back of the mother whale rose like a mountain above the water in the bay between my paddleboard and the beach. I gasped audibly and nearly lost my balance. She was right beside me, maybe even beneath me! I thought about grabbing my camera phone, which hung around my neck in its waterproof case, but I could not take my eyes off the sight. I wanted to be here now with this beautiful creature.
And I prayed that she wouldn’t splash down on top of me.
“Did you see that?” my sister-in-law yelled from her paddleboard, over there, as the smaller baby whale became visible above the water, then gracefully dipped below, following mom.
“Whoa!” I yelled back, my heart pounding. We watched the whales swim past, backs rising a few more times, then out to deeper waters.
The whale encounter lasted maybe 30 seconds at most, and happened a little over a year ago here in Maui when I was just learning to paddleboard. It was a moment that I will never forget. Paddleboarding with whales? I was hooked.
I had always enjoyed swimming, loved the beach and the ocean as much as I loved the trails, but I had never much enjoyed boogie boarding or body surfing. I usually ended up with too much ocean in my sinuses and sand in my orifices. I tried surfing once in San Diego when I was in my 20s, and frankly, it wasn’t very much fun. The whole thing just didn’t make sense to me. I decided then that board (surf, skate, snow) is a language that if you don’t learn when you’re a kid, it’s hard to get as an adult.
Imagine my surprise to enjoy scooping water with my paddle, standing and navigating waves, on a paddleboard.
Quiet! Peaceful! Thrilling!
After a couple of months on Maui last year, I returned to the Pacific Northwest in early spring, just in time for lockdown. My road trip and thru-hiking plans changed, of course, but I did some housesitting for friends, stayed a few weeks with Chettie, the man I am dating, then I locked down with my daughter and son-in-law while I cared for my grandson through the summer. It was then that I purchased my own inflatable paddleboard and had some lovely summertime socially-distanced paddles on lakes and rivers.
I decided to bring my own board back to Maui with me this winter. My board has a dufflebag with backpack straps, and is fairly easy to carry, although not long distances. I had imagined a winter of putting my board on my back and walking down to the beach whenever I wanted, even if no one else wanted to come along.
My first full day on Maui last December, I was anxious to get my board wet. My sister accompanied me on the short walk to the beach, helped me inflate it, and then I took it out. After I had some time on the water, I brought it back so my sister could give it a try. She gingerly paddled out a bit, saw some turtles, but then was tossed around by waves when she came back in. Yep. Sand in orifices.
Once she caught her breath and got settled back on the beach, I took the board out again. The second time I was out there, I stood up, put my paddle in the water but didn’t move forward. I couldn’t steer. The board turned in the direction of my paddle every time I scooped water like a broken compass.
I knew exactly what happened. I lost my center fin. Probably some sand got in the clasp when we inflated it on the beach and it wasn’t secure. I lost my center and I couldn’t steer. I drifted unmoored in the ocean, equipped with a sturdy board and paddle, but the waves and current were in charge of my direction.
I am familiar with this feeling. Life pulled out my center several times the last five years. When my mom died, when I quit my job to care for my husband, then when he died, then when I sold my house. There were a number of times in recent years I felt directionless. I think that’s why walking and hiking are so good for me. Each step moves me in a direction, toward a goal. But I digress.
If you’re in a boat, a small movement with the rudder can take you to a whole new island, right? Small changes can create big results.
So what happens when you lose your rudder?
A few weeks after I lost my fin, and with a replacement on order, I went out again with my brother and sister using their boards. We like to go out in the morning when the water tends to be gentler and before the afternoon trades kick in, roughing up the water.
That morning, though, the water wasn’t gentle at all, but we decided to brave the waves anyway. I immediately got in, stood up and started paddling into the wind, thinking that I would paddle out a bit, turn around and ride the waves in.
I am the youngest in my family and a ready-fire-aim Aries. My elder sibs wisely took it a little slower, staying closer to the shore.
Before I knew it, I was way out there.
If I just hang out here, the waves will eventually take me in, I thought. But then I looked around and realized that wasn’t going to happen. The current was strong, the wind was strong, and I was being carried further out. Once again, I found I couldn’t steer my board, but this time, my center fin was intact. This time, it was external elements at work. The waves and the current were once again in charge.
If it’s not one thing, it’s another.
Oh, and did I mention there was a shark attack a few weeks earlier? A surfer, a man my age, got bit by a shark on Maui, and then later died from his injuries.
So, yeah. There was that.
Breathe, I told myself. I decided not to panic. Not sure why, panic seemed like a perfectly acceptable thing to do in this circumstance. Maybe because my phone hung on my waist in a waterproof pouch, so I knew I could call the Coast Guard if I felt I needed rescuing.
Hello? I’m sitting on my paddleboard out in the middle of Maalaea Bay, heading toward Molikini. Can you come get me?
I sat on my board and paddled toward shore. I took a breath, looked up, and saw the West Maui Mountains to my left. I put my head down in the wind and paddled some more, then took a breath, looked up, and again, saw the West Maui Mountains.
I was moving backward.
Okay, then. Time for a strategic nudge on the metaphoric rudder.
I lowered myself into the water, holding onto the board, and kicked with all my might to prevent me from floating out even further. I aimed for the little colorful specks that were my siblings on the shore.
I kicked a while, made a little bit of forward motion progress, then, an answered prayer. The wind died down a bit. At that point, I crawled back on my board and paddled my heart out to shore.
“You were pretty far out there, huh,” my brother said, unfazed, when I reached the beach. My sibs weren’t worried.
I finally received the replacement center fin I ordered for my paddleboard, but the irony is that I haven’t needed it. In a weird shipping-to-Hawaii snafu, my sister ordered her own board, but received two. I’ve claimed one of them for myself, and have had many lovely moments in the bay watching whales from my board, although none as close as the mama from last year.
I hate to admit it, but I like this new board better than the one I brought with me. It’s longer, lighter, easier to carry, and has a more stable mechanism for the center fin.
I have been delighted and disoriented on this life-reinvention project of mine. It has not escaped me just how lucky I am to be riding out the pandemic here on the island. And I keep learning that things always work out, one way or another. They just do.
Like in the story of the paddleboard. I lost a fin, but gained a whole new ride.
Gallery photos: From the board, my brother David inflating the new one, my brother and sis-in-law Susan paddling in the bay, me in the new t-shirt my big sister Karen bought for me, she took the pic, and whale tail photo by my niece Sandi Tucker last year.