Chapter Thirty: Man Overboard!
“Two kayaks with family at sunset sea” stock photo by @molchanovdmitry
November 13, 2022
Dear Diary,
We recently returned from a family vacation to Hawaii, and while the trip was mostly amazing, we did have one harrowing experience, which I feel compelled to memorialize here as part of our family’s lore.
Our day started off innocently enough. We awoke to another beautiful, sunny-with-temps-in-the-low-’80’s, day in paradise. We overindulged in the breakfast buffet as per usual and then attempted to plan out our day. It was Day 3 of our family vacation, and just like the old adage about fish and houseguests goes, family togetherness was nearing its limit. Amy Beth and Olivia elected to splinter off and go shopping together, while Tyler, Hubby and I settled on kayaking as our activity du jour.
Hubby and Tyler grabbed a double kayak, and I a single, as we set off into the legendary Kauna’oa Bay, about a half-mile in length, and contained on both sides by large rock formations. We leisurely kayaked around the crystal-clear turquoise bay, occasionally racing each other, without ever establishing any formal starts or ends to our impromptu races, but giddily living in the moment like we were children. It was pure bliss for all of twenty minutes, and then it got boring real fast.
“Why don’t we see what’s around those rocks?” Hubby suggested as we approached the southern end of the bay. “Okay!” I obligingly replied. We rounded the corner and, instantly, we were in a turbulent zone of what felt like rapids. I don’t really know the science of it all, but if you ask me, it was the result of fresh water from the mountains combining with the rising tide of the ocean, amidst a bunch of massive volcanic rocks, which caused all these rapids. That’s my layman’s theory, and I’m sticking to it. Next thing I know, Hubby and Tyler have capsized and were submerged in the water under their kayak.
Tyler, being the nimble sprite of 13 that he is, managed to bounce back into the kayak rather easily. Hubby, on the other hand, did not fare so well. His first (several) attempts back into the kayak resulted in the kayak tipping over, while dumping Tyler out in the process. I most fervently resolved to stay upright in my kayak as I paddled over to them to provide assistance.
Our first strategy was for me to attempt to stabilize their kayak from my own to enable them to get back in. This failed a few times before we moved onto our next strategy, which involved utilizing a large rock as a platform from which to enter the kayak. We also decided that it made more sense for Hubby to get in first, while Tyler hung back on the large rock, stabilizing the kayak for Hubby. I suddenly heard a frantic shriek as Tyler jumped off the rock. “There’s crabs! And scorpions!” Tyler screamed, visibly panicked. Before we could respond, Tyler started swimming away from us at full speed.
“Come back!” We futilely screamed as more and more distance gained between us. In what felt like a matter of seconds, Tyler’s head was suddenly a small bob in the middle of the ocean.
“Go save him!” Hubby implored. I paddled towards Tyler as fast as I could. By the time I reached him, he was visibly tired and grabbed onto the side of my kayak with a sigh of relief. I pulled him into my single kayak and I started to paddle back to shore but it was no easy feat with only one paddle and a overweighted kayak. We spotted one of the resort’s floating rafts, anchored about a quarter mile away from shore, in the near distance and started paddling towards it. Just like how a tall landmark can feel deceptively closer in a foreign city, this raft seemed to only move further away, the more I paddled towards it. Once we got relatively close, I told Tyler to swim to it, and then to swim back to shore once he felt strong enough, and to get us help from the lifeguards. Tyler agreed to the plan and started swimming towards the floating raft while I doubled back to Hubby.
As I paddled back to Hubby, I prepared myself for the worst. I pictured him repeatedly banged up by the large, sharp rocks and figured he’d be in a pool of bloody, shark-infested waters by the time I returned. As I rounded the rocky bend, I was astonished to see that Hubby had made it back into the kayak in my absence, but was lying on his back with his paddle draped across his chest.
“Are you okay?” I asked tentatively.
“I’m fine,” Hubby replied, “I just can’t sit up without tipping over” With the wisdom that 15 years of marriage affords you, I decided that now would not be a good time to make fun of Hubby and simply paddled over to him. I held onto the side of the his kayak as he shifted his bodyweight upright.
Thank Heavens! We were finally in the clear! We started to paddle back when a huge wave crashed into me and pinned my kayak in between two boulders. Oh, the expletives that flew out of my mouth!
Hubby paddled over to me and gave me a good push which freed me from the boulders. Unfortunately, a huge swell arrived at that exact moment and I started to tip over. Without even realizing what I was doing, I reached out for Hubby’s kayak and took him out with me. Now, we were both in the water and the waves were crashing down hard on us. The series of sharp rocks around us were a constant threat, and I couldn’t push the crabs that had scared Tyler out of my head either.
It occurred to me that quite some time had passed since I dropped Tyler off at the floating raft. “Where the hell is help?” I screamed at my husband. “If we ever get back to shore, I am going to murder that boy!” I threatened. Just then we heard the loud roar of a jet ski coming towards us. “Oh, thank god!” I shouted at Hubby, “Help is here!”
“Are you in distress?” one of them asked.
“No, but we were just discussing how much we prefer jet skiing to kayaking,” Hubby joked.
The lifeguards brought the jet ski as close to the boulder zone as they could, and then one jumped off and swam over to Hubby. He took hold of Hubby’s kayak while Hubby swam over to the jet ski which was equipped with a stretcher-like contraption off the back. Hubby grabbed onto it and was whisked away. While he was gone, I jumped into my kayak and asked the remaining lifeguard if we should head back.
“Let’s wait for my partner to return. You know you aren’t supposed to be here? That’s why we tell people not to leave the Bay,” he admonished me.
“No, no one ever told us that,” I replied sheepishly.
“Must have been the new guy working the shack,” he muttered disdainfully under his breath. “Thank goodness for your son. He’s quite the hero for swimming back,” the lifeguard said admiringly of Tyler whom I still had misgivings toward for taking so long to get us help.
The other lifeguard returned with his jet ski and told me to hop on.
“But, I’m perfectly capable of paddling back,” I protested.
“It’s standard procedure, Ma’am. We will get into trouble if you don’t get on the jet ski.”
What could I say to that? I jumped out of my kayak and swam over to the jet ski and dutifully grabbed onto the stretcher, which whisked me back to shore.
Back on shore, I was greeted by Tyler who was sipping a large virgin Pina colada.
“Did you order that before or after you asked for help?” I couldn’t help myself from asking.
Before he could respond, a group of fellow attendees of the legal conference Hubby was attending ran over to me to ask what had happened.
“Oh nothing,” I said, trying to play off the incident.
There was no way to stop this story from spreading, however. For the next couple of days, everywhere we went, all we could hear was chatter about the couple who had to be rescued at sea after their teenage son courageously swam back to shore to get help. Everywhere we went, Tyler was greeted to a hero’s welcome and advised to immediately take up an aquatic sport like water polo.
Meanwhile, Hubby and I felt somewhat embarassed, perhaps Hubby more so than I. Indeed, the next day at breakfast, Hubby was chatting with a judge and his wife, when another conference attendee came over to ask if they had heard about the ocean rescue the day before. The attendee very dramatically recounted the latest version of the story, which included a bit about the lifeguard dumping Hubby into the bay before returning to rescue me.
“He didn’t dump me!” Hubby exclaimed, “I jumped off!"
But the damage was already done. Every time we went near the ocean from that point forward, people would tell us to be careful, or to be sure to bring our heroic son with us.
Diary, I memorialized this story here because I thought it would make a good story for the ages. Hubby, however, is not so enthusiastic and hopes the story fades quietly. As tomorrow is Hubby’s birthday, I hope you will join me in raising a glass and toasting the guy who’s pretty fantastic at everything, kayaking notwithstanding.
Very Sincerely Yours,
Maya
The New Governess