The Palauan Kayak Misadventure

This is my first posting...copied from a letter I wrote to my dad a few months ago. You'll most likely notice a few references and or innuendos which you probably won't understand, unless you're very familiar with Palau. In any case, it's something to start with...


It was Palau's Independence Day and they made the official move into the new national capitol building in Melekeok, so there was a three day weekend and a bunch of hoopla all around. Apparently five thousand people attended the opening ceremonies, which is a heck of a lot of people for a little place like this.

So I decided to go in the opposite direction and go for a four day kayak with some buddies, one of which is going to be leaving next week. All together there were six of us, and we got the short run-down from Ron, because he felt comfortable sending us out with yours truly and one other "veteran" of Rock Island paddles to guide the trip. The weather was looking pretty shitty the day before we were set to leave, but we were a pretty determined group. After all three day weekends don't come along every week. The day we left the weather was still shitty, as a result of a huge typhoon in Southeast Asia making its way north along the coast of Vietnam. In order to avoid paddling against the wind, we opted to get a boat ride down to Mecherchar island, where we dropped off most of our supplies at a nice spot called Clam City Beach and then were dropped off at Jellyfish Lake.

After seeing the lake, which one guy hadn't seen yet, we went to a nearby grove to check out an intact piece of Yapese stone money, and then paddled around a few outcrops into the wind (which never let up the whole trip) to a point we picked out on the map to be the easiest access point to walk to Spooky Lake. I had been there once before so I led the way, and after a 30 minute walk we made it to the edge of it. I may have scared some of the guys in the group when I started smacking the surface of the water to let the crocodiles know we were there, and in the end only four of us snorkeled in the lake, two of which only swam for maybe 5 meters before getting back out. The don't call it Spooky for nothing, as only the top foot or so of the lake is clear, while the bottom of the lake is a murky, pea green colored, bacteria-rich cloud of warm water with zero visibility. The bacteria cause some kind of reaction resulting in higher temperatures at greater depths, so that supposedly if you dive 10 ft. down you can burn yourself. We were satisfied to dangle an arm down perpendicularly to feel a temperature difference of at least 10 degrees F from the surface. I led my old roommate Angus around the edge and the across the lake and back, and excited as we were, we were both glad to exit the water. I still can't get over the other-worldly colors in the water though, especially around the perimeter with the contrasts of the pea soup layer, the upper rainwater layer, the dark sediment and gloomy holes and crevices along the edge, and the mangrove roots dangling down densely covered in brightly colored sponges and seasquirts, with little schools of tiny fish and shrimps looking back at you curiously with their huge eyes.

After a short walk out and a hour of paddling with the wind, we made it to the beach, and slung our hammocks under the summerhouse built there. We didn't have the luxury of the instant gas stove that we had on our trip. Instead we had three whisper-lite stoves which we had to fiddlle with for an hour and a half to figure out how they worked. As it turned out, only one of them really did. The weather that first night was the worst, and as we neglected to hang tarps along the outer edge, I was the wind and rain break for the other fellows hanging inside of me. I probably slept a half an hour at most, and got out of my drenched hammock to more wind and rain to make breakfast.

We were lazy setting off, but did just in time to leave before the first tour boat arrived, and we took a quick look at the giant clams nearby before setting off towards Ngerubtabel Island and the famous Long Lake. The crossing between the islands was pretty rough, choppy with wind-swept waves, but luckily the wind was mostly to our back, so we took a rather leisurely approach trying to get the wind to push us as much as possible. We ended up snorkeling at the same spot that we did as we were headed in the opposite direction. If you remember it was in the morning after we camped at Fantasy Island. The wind was really howling by this point, but it was really quite nice underwater, and I caught my first fish with my new spear gun, a decent-sized unicorn fish which we barbecued that night.

After another long paddle with the wind and chop, we made it to the entrance to long-lake, which had constant three foot waves plowing through the opening in the rocks. This was to be the first sign that the rest of the trip might be pretty interesting, as I was taken surprise by a good 4-5 ft. wave, flipped my boat and was washed through the channel into the shallows. As I would later realize, my boat was pretty poorly packed, with very little weight inside the hull of the boat, and most of it tied and strapped to the top and the sides. I was also carrying an anchor and some small weights for spear fishing, and as a result I was consistently being turned by the waves and current, making it difficult to keep myself straight and safe to either cross over them or ride with them. At least with this wave I had a nice three second ride before I flipped. Anyhow, you know what Long Lake is like, and we enjoyed the relative calm of the shallow clear-water mangrove entrance, but the inside where it opens up was almost as windy as the outside lagoon, and we only stayed long enough to do a little more spearfishing before we turned around, made our way back out, and started the long, choppy crossing over to Margie's Beach.

Margie's Beach, if you recall is just down the coast from the Milky Way, and Paradise Cove where we spent our second night. It's probably the biggest and longest beach in the Rock Islands, and there's a nice summer house there. We slung our hammocks again ,and being a slow learner I again put mine at the edge. We weren't cursed by the rain like the previous night, but we were more in line with the wind, and our tarps were being violenty whipped all night long, which for me again, made for a night with very little sleep. The plan for the next day was to go back along Ngerubtabel and see Milky Way, Einstein's Garden, and Secret Lake, but the wind was blowing so hard against us that we decided not to, and waited for the tide to come up so we could cross the outer reef and make our way around the corner of the island and back into German Lighthouse. Before setting out, this section of the reef (which was pretty calm when we crossed it) was our biggest concern, because there can be some big waves that break there and dangerously close to the jagged rocky coast.

It was destined to be an interesting day, and even leaving the beach was pretty difficult, as there were two to three foot waves breaking consistently along the whole length, whereas normally there's just a gentle lapping if that. Two of the guys flipped their boats going out and had to look around in the foam and surge for hats and the like before we all made it out past the breakers and made our way to the outer reef crossing. At first the waves didn't look very big, and I easily made my way outside of the surf zone, where I proceeded to make my way along the coast. We probably should have briefed the other guys a bit more about what we were about to do, because they kept too close to the coast. If you're not outside of the surf zone, then you constantly have to position and re-position your boat as the waves come at you sideways and threaten to flip you over. Luckily most of the waves were too small to really wipe you out, but occasionally big ones would come through, and often take you by surprise. So I watched as one, then two, three and four of my buddies flipped their boats and struggled to flip them back over, standing on the reef with bare feet and being washed closer and closer to shore. While I was watching, and making my way around the corner, I was swept into the surf zone by the wind and current, and then I was also struggling to flip my boat back over, retrieve my hat and my paddle and get straight back out of those waves. And we all did. Once we regrouped, we took stock; three lost sets of snorkel gear, one lost hat, one lost pair of sunglasses, five slightly damaged egos, and six smiling, happy faces reflecting a fun time had by all. We purposely headed straight back into the surf zone around the corner, surfed a few small sets, and made our way around the corner to the trailhead for German Lighthouse.

The plan was to walk to the top to see the lighthouse and the view, but two of the guys were tired and decided to stick around, watch the boats and go fishing. I wanted to go back to the cave which we only superficially explored, so I took the rest of the guys up the trail, equipped with a few small flashlights and three glow sticks. Due to recent tree falls and obscured markings in the trail, we ended up getting off track and finding a tiny marine lake, bordered by an ancient, enormous tree draped with mossy vines which filtered out the hazy light and made us think of Dagobah, Yoda's planet in The Empire Strike's Back. Eventually I found my way back to the trail and we made it to the cave, which we were able to explore in more depth, and it was incredible. As you may recall the entrance is littered with all sorts and manner of WWII relics strewn all over the place. Mostly we just bipassed these, but we were interested to see an old rain barrel completed covered and calcified by the slowly accumulating minerals raining down from the cavern's roof. We made it all the way to the back of the cave, where we couldn't go before because of insufficient light, and it was really something. The stalagtites and mites were Carlsbadesque in their splendor, and we made it to the rear room, where we were delighted to see a whole crystal cavern of glittering formations as densely packed into the space as possible, and swarming with hundreds, if not thousands of sheath-tailed bats. Once we made it back to the main trail, we decided that it was too late and we were too tired and hungry to go up to the lighthouse, which didn't seem so important anymore anyway, after the wonder that we had just witnessed.

So, after a small snack of betelnut, we headed out again and made the crossing across two channels and a protected reef to Lee Marvin Beach on the East side of Urupthapel island. This time I did a much better job of leading the boys around the worst sections and avoiding the pounding waves, which were the biggest I've ever seen on that reef. One of the guys though, not having enough fun with the previous crossing, slipped into the waves for a little more action, and was flipped end over end by a huge wave, but he was allright. So we made it to the beach and we were quietely satisfied to have made it through the toughest sections unscathed, with only a gentle paddle around the corner and through Nikko Bay awaiting us the following morning. I took a chance and slung my hammock in a little protected forest glade just around the corner from the summer house on Lee Marvin Beach (if you remember that's where we saw all of those lovely rats), and I was rewarded with my best sleep of the trip, being somewhat protected from the wind and snores which plagued the summerhouse.

As soon as the tide allowed the next morning, all the other guys took a short side paddle into Risong Bay, while I lazily decided to stick around the beach for a few hours more and relax. When the tide was high enough, I made my way around the corner to check out Blacktip Lake (where we also went) and spent a nice, silent half-hour looking for baby blacktips before the crew made it back and we headed out to paddle over to the entrance into Nikko Bay. Having made this particular trip many times before, I was expecting to be able to hug the coast the whole way and avoid dealing with any surf at all. From a distance, it looked like the waves were comparable in size to the previous day's, and I wasn't too worried about our abilities to deal with it. As I was pushed into it by the unceasing winds though, I realized that not only were the waves breaking right on the island, but they were pretty big too, and I was already caught up in them. I was doing fine, keeping my balance and heading out of the danger zone, when I spotted a big section of shallow rocks I was headed straight towards, and I tried to steer my way around it while still taking on every set of incoming wave. But once I realized that it was actually a huge mass of floating leaves, my boat had already turned sideways, and I was flipped. I had my boat all geared up to do some spearfishing along the way, so the anchor slid off and kept me in one place, making it difficult to get up and back into the boat and paddling again. To make it worse, my fishing line had come off and was getting tangled in the anchor line. The tie on my shorts had come undone and my shorts were about to go down to my ankles. My hat had come off and was floating temptingly close to me but not close enough. Trying to remedy all of these at the same time while dealing with oncoming waves coming every three seconds, I was pummeled and washed close to shore. I looked back to see two of my buddies, who were following me, in similar dire straights. One luckily righted his boat and made a well-timed, straight shot through the waves to the outside where two of the others had made it and were paddling along slowly in slightly calmer water, watching us. I realized I wasn't going to be able to do anything with such a mess of line and weights dangling from my boat, so I made my way into a narrow, rocky cove where I was able to pull my boat up and sort out my tangles. Five minutes later my buddy, named Julian and dazed-looking, made his way through a hole in the rock next to the cove, and pulled his boat up next to mine. Five minutes after that, my buddy Angus paddled his way not 20 ft. in front of the cove and flipped, and after we yelled at him he washed into the cove to join us. As we brought our boats further and further up to the edge of the cove, which was bordered by a sheer cliff 70 ft. high, we realized that as the tide was coming up, the waves were just getting bigger and breaking closer to shore.

After we had rested for 10 minutes, I proposed that we just go for it and head straight out over the waves to make it out of the reef where our friends were probably waiting. Angus and Julian looked at each other and asked each other if they would go. Both said no. I figured I would try anyway, and I did, but with the waves breaking inside the cove now it was extremely difficult to even get in the kayak before the wave would crash in and knock it and me sideways. I tried in vain for another 5 minutes and then gave up momentarily. The three of us tied our boats together and then to an old, gnarled tree on the edge of the cliff, and sat down to stare at the waves and let our situation sink in a bit. We knew that with the tide still coming up, we wouldn't have much of a chance of making it out of the cove until high tide had passed and gone out for maybe an hour. We figured we had at least two hours two wait, and it was already 4 o'clock. The prospect of paddling out of there into those big waves in the fading light didn't seem very comforting. So we waited, sitting there on a pile of receding cobbestones as the tide kept coming in, transfixed at times by the huge waves crashing into the cove and exploding on the rock outcrops bordering the cove. I'm sure all of us were imagining what could happen to us if we flipped too close to those rocks and had a wave wash underneath the overhangs and both sides of us. But, not wanting to take the situation too seriously, we cracked jokes and skipped stones, and gave thanks that the three of us had ended up in the same spot. And then, luckily, a boat cruised by along the outer reef edge, and we could make out one of our friends riding on the back, waving to us. Then the boat was gone, and we kept waiting for the tide to go down, but it only seemed to keep coming in, the waves getting bigger and bigger. And we wondered what had happened to our other friends, and we hoped that they had all made it o.k. to NIkko and not gotten overwhelmed by the reef crossing there. And then we were saved....by Tarzan.

We saw a boat pull up outside of the break near us, and we realized it was a boat from Sam's, and Ron was on it, scoping the situation. We waved at him and gave him the o.k. sign, and then he put a mask on and jumped into the heaving swells with no shirt, and no fins, no booties. It didn't take him long to swim in with the surf, but he was careful to aim himself into the cove and not into one of the rocks, and it was lucky the tide was high, because the swells were bringing him in right on top of some big coral heads, which he told us later were only a few inches from his chest. So he swam into the cove and immediately took control of the situation. We had to untie the boats and move them even higher up. We had to empty them out of everything waterlogged or heavy, and drain any water that had gotten inside during our previous struggles with the waves. We had one "easy" way out of the cove, and that was to paddle straight out, just as I had thought, but where I had gone wrong was in the methodology of launching. Without all of the weight in my boat, I was a lot lighter, and my boat traveled straighter. I was chosen to be the first to try the way out, and they all helped me bring my boat into the surge. Ron was holding the front and Angus the back. If I were to flip, Ron instructed me to ditch the boat and swim straight for the rescue boat outside the reef. His plan was to watch and see how I did, and then swim out and help me get to the boat if I flipped. I was ready, and after a small wave passed, I jumped into the kayak, only to be knocked backwards and sideways out of it by the first wave that came after. Ron was still holding onto the boat, so I jumped back in. He gave me a strong shove, and I started paddling like hell straight into the waves. The first three were high enough to go over my head, but I just went straight through them and kept going. Then I saw the last wave coming towards me and I knew it was going to be a really big one. I figured my chances were fifty fifty of going over it or of being flipped backwards. But I didn't hesitate. I kept going straight into it, and to my relief I launched over the top with a fine spray of salty water and down the back side, to the cheers of the guys in the boat waiting to pick me up in the deep rolling waters of the outer reef.

It was the same routine for Angus, who went next, but got luckier with his waves, which were smaller. He almost lost it at one point though when he didn't keep his boat straight enough, and later Ron called him the luckiest guy on earth. Julian, being a stronger swimmer than kayaker, decided to swim for the boat and let Ron take his kayak out last. They were both pretty lucky with their sets, and pretty soon we were all on the boat smiling, shaking hands, and patting each other on the back. Much to our amazement, Ron was very pleased with the outcome (we thought he'd be pissed), because we made good, safe decisions and didn't loose our boats or paddles. He told us he would've made the same decisions we did, and went on to tell us several stories about times when he went through rough situations and came out humbled with more respect for the sea. I defintely learned a few things, of which the top was learning to pack my boat better. We were really lucky to come out of the situation stoked and happy, and the only downside of the whole trip was that four of us (including me) lost our snorkeling sets to the ocean, and I got a mild case of poison tree rash. Ron was cool enough to buy us a round of beer when we got back, and I was left deeply impressed with how he handled the whole situation. I'm still slowly recovering from my poison tree, my lack of sleep, a wide assortment of small cuts and bruises on my hands and feet, and the excitement of the wild ending to our trip. Now I just have to go look for a new mask and snorkel so that I can work tomorrow. And maybe take a nap....