Where have all the paddlers gone?

Saturday was a super day to paddle but it just didn't happen.  No one interested.  I mailed the gang with a plan for a Sunday paddle.  Again, no takers.  I pulled the plug on that and said I intended to do a short paddle in the afternoon.  Join me if so disposed.

Dean would join me.  Here he paddles out of the harbour, past what looks like the Pillars of Hercules.

It looked calm out in the bay but there was a sizable broad open swell running in the bay caused by post-tropical storm Rafael.  Its well offshore now but it was still sending waves our way.  Easy paddling off from the coast but in close the swell crashed where it met the land.  Can you say clapotis?

At times I was looking down on Dean.

Hard to believe the action on shore was as violent as it was based on the sea state.  Little Bell Island and Kellys Island hover on the horizon.

I kept my gaze well ahead as we paddled along looking for where the waves built and broke.  I didn't want to get caught on the wrong side of the break.

The one place where we were able to scoot between the rocks and the shore.

As we approached Topsail Head the southerly winds dropped over the hill and picked up speed.  The gusts rushing downhill met the breaking waves at the shoreline and blew the tops of the waves.

We got out at Topsail Beach, myself not so elegantly, but safely.  The waves dumped on the beach as we sat.  Ummm ... that could be interesting getting away again I thought.  After sizing up the wave sets I felt it wouldn't be an issue and both of us got back afloat without incident.

Seven kilometers later back at St Philips we had our usual coffee.

Today's paddle was along a familiar coast but the action at the sea - land interface made it a different experience anyway.  Dean and I enjoyed it and I wondered where have all the paddlers gone?  Gone to other things everyone.  At least this weekend anyway.  And, wasn't that a great 60's song?