drawing him away from her; only meters away but dwindling into the distance, becoming unreachable. The building wave carried him toward the shore where it crested and broke and swept him far up onto the rocky beach before falling back and collapsing into the sea, only to surge up and pull back leaving him high and dry. Even before the last of the water had trickled off the broken rock, he had climbed out and swung the loaded kayak up onto his shoulder, and ran with it to the safety of the higher ground.
Ashleigh waited for the next wave and then began to paddle. She watched it lift up ahead of her and then rush up the shore foaming against the hard rock. She began to paddle back turning parallel to the shore. Try again, Ashleigh; try again! The returning swell flipped her over; disoriented, her world now a tumbling white and a paralyzing cold, she automatically pulled the skirt release as Patrick had shown her and she felt herself fall free as he had promised. The surface foamed above her. So this is it. This is death.
The sea suddenly retreated leaving her free and clear lying flat on the rock. A good thing: she was breathing again. She looked up . Patrick was wrestling with her kayak. He flipped it upright and too heavy to lift began to drag it up toward the beach; she could hear the fiberglass scraping over the rock. That’s why we get rentals… She called but he didn’t even glance in her direction. She climbed to her feet and slipped onto the rock. She sat up and felt pain, and was immediately overtaken by the next wave that swept up from behind. Once again, she was submerged and once again, it passed. She stood, spitting out seawater, her eyes stinging with the salt, and called out to Patrick. She had only seconds to find him before the retreating wave knocked her once again off her feet, this time tumbling her over the rock and sweeping her back out to sea. When she surfaced, she was in deep water almost where she had started.
Patrick was right beside her: “Hey! Hey!” She reached for him like someone drowning. Once she had him, she was never letting go. “Okay… I gotcha…” He grabbed hold of her lifejacket; “I’m not letting go...” They rode the next wave in. It swept them forward and up the slope, turning to foam and falling away, leaving them sitting side by side on the hard rock. In a heartbeat, Patrick had her standing next to him high up on the beach, the sea running off her in torrents, her teeth chattering. He gave her a towel and let her dry her face and gently guided her up the stone beach toward the sun-warmed rocks on the beach.
“ Phew, that was something!” he said; “Good thing we stored our gear in those water-tight bags or we’d have a long cold night ahead of us.”
“ Fuck the bags!” she blurted and wrenched her arm free. “I don’t know how you’re going to get me off this shore but I’m not getting into that thing again!” Her voice quivered. She couldn’t help it. She was still in shock. “Why did you grab the kayak and not me?” she snapped, her teeth continuing to chatter.
He explained it was because the next wave might have crashed it against her and she might have been seriously hurt.
“You don’t think I wasn’t seriously hurt?”
She lifted her palm showing him the cuts and pointed to her knees.
“I bet that stings,” he said. He reached for her hand to examine them more closely but she jerked it angrily back. “But by tomorrow they‘ll be gone; they’re just micro cuts,” he added looking up and smiling.
“Micro cuts?”
“A little bit of Polysporin and you’ll be good.”
Ashleigh gave Patrick the very best of what her anger, despair, frustration, embar rassment, and fear could deliver: “Argh! Those sleeping bags - don’t even think of zipping them together!” She stamped angrily up the beach.
“That was a tough one, I’ll give you that!” he called after her.
“You should have brought two tents because I am not sleeping
Ashleigh waited for the next wave and then began to paddle. She watched it lift up ahead of her and then rush up the shore foaming against the hard rock. She began to paddle back turning parallel to the shore. Try again, Ashleigh; try again! The returning swell flipped her over; disoriented, her world now a tumbling white and a paralyzing cold, she automatically pulled the skirt release as Patrick had shown her and she felt herself fall free as he had promised. The surface foamed above her. So this is it. This is death.
The sea suddenly retreated leaving her free and clear lying flat on the rock. A good thing: she was breathing again. She looked up . Patrick was wrestling with her kayak. He flipped it upright and too heavy to lift began to drag it up toward the beach; she could hear the fiberglass scraping over the rock. That’s why we get rentals… She called but he didn’t even glance in her direction. She climbed to her feet and slipped onto the rock. She sat up and felt pain, and was immediately overtaken by the next wave that swept up from behind. Once again, she was submerged and once again, it passed. She stood, spitting out seawater, her eyes stinging with the salt, and called out to Patrick. She had only seconds to find him before the retreating wave knocked her once again off her feet, this time tumbling her over the rock and sweeping her back out to sea. When she surfaced, she was in deep water almost where she had started.
Patrick was right beside her: “Hey! Hey!” She reached for him like someone drowning. Once she had him, she was never letting go. “Okay… I gotcha…” He grabbed hold of her lifejacket; “I’m not letting go...” They rode the next wave in. It swept them forward and up the slope, turning to foam and falling away, leaving them sitting side by side on the hard rock. In a heartbeat, Patrick had her standing next to him high up on the beach, the sea running off her in torrents, her teeth chattering. He gave her a towel and let her dry her face and gently guided her up the stone beach toward the sun-warmed rocks on the beach.
“ Phew, that was something!” he said; “Good thing we stored our gear in those water-tight bags or we’d have a long cold night ahead of us.”
“ Fuck the bags!” she blurted and wrenched her arm free. “I don’t know how you’re going to get me off this shore but I’m not getting into that thing again!” Her voice quivered. She couldn’t help it. She was still in shock. “Why did you grab the kayak and not me?” she snapped, her teeth continuing to chatter.
He explained it was because the next wave might have crashed it against her and she might have been seriously hurt.
“You don’t think I wasn’t seriously hurt?”
She lifted her palm showing him the cuts and pointed to her knees.
“I bet that stings,” he said. He reached for her hand to examine them more closely but she jerked it angrily back. “But by tomorrow they‘ll be gone; they’re just micro cuts,” he added looking up and smiling.
“Micro cuts?”
“A little bit of Polysporin and you’ll be good.”
Ashleigh gave Patrick the very best of what her anger, despair, frustration, embar rassment, and fear could deliver: “Argh! Those sleeping bags - don’t even think of zipping them together!” She stamped angrily up the beach.
“That was a tough one, I’ll give you that!” he called after her.
“You should have brought two tents because I am not sleeping
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