This summer got off to a late start. In retrospect I think that also contributed to my depression the past several weeks. I love the beach and usually get down there starting in May. But this year my first beach day wasn’t until June 25. Very late, indeed. But better late than never. The day proved to be precisely what I needed and rejuvenated my spirit, like chocolate for my soul after a good cry. I am once again feeling like myself after a day of sun, water, laughter… and a bit of an adventure, too.
My husband, Mike and I left early Saturday morning to meet up with our good friend, Rudy. After an early lunch and a stop by the Cape May Hops Festival for a beer and look around, we headed over to “The Spot,” our favorite secret location to fish, drink, paddleboard and spend the day. We’ve been going there for years and it feels like home. The guys fished and I paddled and read in my beach chair submerged in a few inches of water. We told stories and caught up after not hanging out for a couple months.
We were having a good laugh when I noticed something floating out in the water quite a ways.
“What is that?” I asked, pointing in the direction of the object.
“Some sort of raft, maybe?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“You should go get it,” Rudy suggested.
“I should! A rescue mission!” I jumped out of my beach chair without hesitation and reached for my paddle. “I’m off!”
“Oh no, this can’t be good,” Mike said as I dragged my paddleboard toward the water. The object was pretty far out and moving quickly in the wind and current so I paddled hard to catch up with it.
As I approached the object I realized it was indeed a raft. I had wanted a raft to float on and was entertained at the notion of garbage picking the ocean. Some kid must have let it blow away. I slowed once I was within a few feet and drifted the rest of the way. As I came upon it, I got my first glimpse of the design and instantly recognized the brand blazon across the brown and orange square raft. I laughed so hard I nearly fell off my board. “But, of course,” I said, smiling as I plucked the raft from the water and placed it on my board in front of me. The raft was much wider than the board and kept lifting slightly in the wind. I realized very quickly this was going to be a tad difficult to negotiate.
As soon as I turned, the wind caught the side of the raft and I quickly pinned it down with my paddle, struggling to keep my balance on the board. Every time I stopped paddling to secure the raft, the current turned me back toward the horizon. After several more failed attempts to turn toward shore, I carefully sat down on my board and draped a leg over the raft to prevent it from blowing away. This made me incredibly unsteady, and paddling very difficult, but abandoning my booty was out of the question.
I finally managed to get myself turned around and was quite stunned at how far I had drifted from shore. I studied the divided sections of sand between the jetties looking for our camp, but couldn’t pick it out among the other umbrellas and beach goers. I lifted my gaze toward the roofs dotting the road behind the dunes and sought out the red one of the house near where we parked our cars. My eyes lowered from the roof back to the beach and I recognized a pin prick of orange, the color of the shirts Mike and Rudy were fortunately wearing.
They were three jetties to my left and hundreds of yards of water to the shore. The current had carried me very far and very quickly…
Relieved to at least have identified my target, I paddled hard against the current. A boat approached in the distance, full speed, its wake trailing. When the boat passed full speed between me and the shore, it dawned on me just how far out in open water I was. I braced myself for the wake, which had diminished by the time it even reached me.
I was getting nowhere and losing steam. I could barely make out a figure in orange waving at me, so I waved back, unsure if it was Mike or Rudy. “I see you,” I said. Then they waved me toward shore. “I’m trying!” I shouted. “Geez, I’m not sitting out here for my health,” I said to the raft. I was Tom Hanks in my personal Castaway story, my raft my Wilson, and I was not letting it go. I kept paddling, my arms burning.
I finally got close enough to make out that Mike had waded into the water a few jetties closer than where I was headed. Rudy was carefully stepping his way out along the jetty. Rudy pointed toward Mike and Mike waved me in. I realized they were signaling me to stop fighting against the current and just make straight for shore. That hadn’t occurred to me, I confess. And if you’re asking yourself why I didn’t deflate my raft, well… I didn’t think of that, either. I can tell you, though that this story wouldn’t be as good if I had.
So I worked my way straight toward shore. By now I had carefully gotten back on my knees, slamming a hand down on to the raft every few strokes to keep it from flying away. Once I was out of the current, and heading perpendicular to the shore things were much easier and I finally made some headway. I saw Rudy begin to make his way back to the sand from the jetty, satisfied I had gotten the message. Mike continued to wave me in. “I’m trying!” I shouted. “I’m tired!”
Once I was within 50 yards or so, I clutched the raft to my chest, displaying it for him to see. “Totally worth it!” I shouted. And everyone could see that I had risked life and limb for an inflatable Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup.
Mike lowered and shook his head, but I could see his smile. Of course his wife would find a giant peanut butter cup at sea and worry him sick in order to bring it back. I finally floated aground, exhausted but laughing hysterically.
“I figured you were okay once I heard you laughing,” Rudy commented as he approached.
“I was pretty far out there!”
“Yeah you were! You were caught in the current.”
The guys grabbed my board and paddle. I clutched my prize to my side as we walked back toward our things. “Nice job!” someone shouted. Apparently the whole ordeal had gotten the attention of some of the beach goers who witnessed me retrieve the raft and then struggle back to shore. A few women cheered softly.
“Totally worth it!” I replied. They agreed, understanding the special relationship between a woman and her chocolate.
Once we got back to our spot, I collapsed into my beach chair, exhausted and laughing, and heard things from Mike’s and Rudy’s point of view and just how worried they had become, especially when I stopped making any progress and the boat sped by closer to the shore than I was.
“You were a speck out in the water. I’m pretty sure you were closer to Delaware than New Jersey,” Rudy joked.
“Thanks for your help, guys!”
“I was worried you might be giving up,” Rudy said. “Why the hell didn’t you deflate the raft?”
“I didn’t think of that.”
Mike was quiet – I had worried him – but smiling at the absurdity of it all.
“I nearly busted my ass on that jetty. It was slippery as hell,” Rudy said.
“Something bit my toe and there was blood everywhere,” Mike added.
“I almost got lost at sea!”
“So we all could have gotten seriously injured all because of a peanut butter cup,” Rudy said.
“Technically, Rudy, it was your idea,” I said.
We would laugh about this for the rest of the day. Mike poured beer into our cups and we toasted to an awesome beach day, not being lost at sea, to a good story, to chocolate, to everything…
My heart filled with gratitude for such a rejuvenating day.
What an adventure!
Love it!! Perseverance and risk are rewarded 🙂