Trinidad, CA

Back To Menu

Trinidad, CA

8/6/07

The sign at the boat launch warned of hazardous currents and waves, but it certainly didn't apply to this day. Not by a long shot. The water in the bay was calm and black, like liquid obsidian. Kelp grew in patches among the rocky outcroppings.

It seemed like there were a million of them. Little islets, some no bigger than a large boulder sticking out of the water, others the size of cathedrals. Many of the reefs and pillars had seals lounging at their bases, while pelicans and cormorants claimed the high ground. I paddled among the rocks, where the low swell curled around the points, little wavelets forming, then disappearing again. This subtle interchange between the water and the land was the only sign that I was really paddling on the sea, rather than some giant pond.

As I got further south in the bay, toward Camel Rock, the open sea began to make its presence felt. No big breakers, but steady sets of waves that broke at various points on the irregular beach. Houses perched above the shoreline in the mist, and I wondered what the view must be like from this fireplace here or that hot tub there.

Rounding Camel Rock, I headed out to sea, back on a northwesterly course, to check out the water and wildlife of a large rock that sat out apart from the others. Pilot Rock was covered in sea birds, while a dozen seals bobbed in the swells just offshore, keeping an eye on me. I stayed inside of the rock, about a hundred yards to the south, then started the paddle back to the beach.

The lighthouse on the head pulsed in regular meter: 3 seconds on, 1 second off. I could hear the foghorn high up on the cliffs and as I got back toward the put-in, the little fishing boats came into view, the ragged fleet that lay at anchor in the cove. My keel scraped on the fine yellow sand and all too quickly I traded my kayak for a car, and we were back on the road again.

Ken Campbell