Ever since I was a young girl the ocean scared me, specifically strong, massive waves. It was not always that way, however. The fear developed between the ages of 6-8 when my family vacationed in East Hampton. There were days when our family would go to the beach and the waves would barely even crash, they would just have a gentle roll onto the shoreline. But of course, with the tides always changing, the conditions followed suit. There were many occasions where I would be tossed around as if I were rolling through a washing machine. I’d feel as though my lungs would explode for every second I had to hold my breath. There was something so scary to me about being controlled by nature. Having a wave strip you naked because of its strength to then stand up, befuddled on a beach. Ever since those moments, I always saw the ocean as domineering.
After knowing this unusual fear of mine, you may find it odd that I decided to go to Australia, (home to some of the strongest ocean currents in the world) on a sea kayaking expedition in the Dampier Archipelago. This choice was one of the most spontaneous I’ve ever made. I received a call while I was studying for my last final in May that notified me that I was eligible to be removed from the waitlist on a NOLS Australia course. They asked me if I wanted to go and immediately I said, “Yes.” No research was done on the course nor was I familiar with how to Sea Kayak. It wasn’t until I hung up the phone until I realized, “What the hell am I getting myself into.”
Not only does Australia have some of the most dangerous bodies of water, but the animals that inhabit them are more than happy to eat any human that crosses their path. I did not do my research until after I paid for my flight and was fully committed to the program, where I learned in recent news that two women were swimming at Cairns Beach in Australia at nighttime and were attacked by a crocodile. Unsettling? Yes. Made me question my choice to be sea kayaking in these waters? Absolutely. Turned out, I was paddling on the opposite side of the continent, but I had enough anxiety about the course to begin with, that I did not need the crocodiles to add to the terror.
Cut to our fourth day paddling. We had gone about five nautical miles since leaving civilization. The conditions had been phenomenal. Not much wind, no waves, I was thinking, “Damn, this is so much easier than I thought it would be.” Today was the day we would switch boat partners. There were three single boats in our group and four doubles. On this day, I was chosen to be a single. With my lack of experience in paddling and concern for the ocean water you could say I was a little bit on edge about this switch. We packed up boats and gathered in a circle to map out our day. Our guides told us we would be travelling ten nautical miles. We had gone five in four days and now we were going ten. On a course like this I knew I couldn’t complain so I bit my tongue and hopped in my boat. Might I mention, the guides appointed me as point boat to keep the pace and lead the pod on this day.
The wind was strong even while we were in the protection of the cove we camped on. I kept thinking to myself, “This isn’t too bad, I got this,” until we paddled out to the tip of the island. White caps filled the ocean in front of me. Wind whipped against my ears making it hard to hear when people told me to slow down or “pod-up.” This is where my body told me to tense up while my mind was trying to play it cool. With seven boats following me, I had to be a leader. But as I paddled on, the terrified six-year-old in me came out. The waves crashed on my boat as I struggled to find a rhythm with my paddle and my breath. Splashing on my shoulders, the waves pushed me back and forth between the cliffs and the open sea. At this point my body and mind were frozen as the cold ocean water crept through my spray skirt. Our guide, Sally, gracefully paddled up next to me seeing I was struggling and said, “Be one with the ocean, paddle into the waves." At that moment I breathed. That one breath I hadn’t been taking caused me to dwell only in my fear of these waves. But after this moment I felt something in me soften. My fears released and I became one with the ocean. I didn’t capsize that day, although I was sure it would happen. And even though I wasn’t always in front where I needed to be, I found more strength in the placement of my breath and headspace.
Engaging with the ocean saved my life. It saved me from living in a constant frustration with my mind and body that refused to work together. It saved me from engaging in a lifestyle where I made excuses for myself, or would say, “I can’t.” My fears rolled out on the waves they came in on that day. I believe that one fear can’t hold a person back. There is no room to fail in such a way. For me, facing my childhood fear of waves confirmed that I could overcome any obstacle in my life that crashed toward me, that nature could control me in extraordinary ways. And that, above all else, saved my life.
