Last month, I couldn’t spell Kayak... by Ray Cirimele     photos

But now, I can tell you everything you need to know. All it took was an Après outing with 40 tyro outdoorsmen, most who would never have considered dipping even a toe into the chilly waters of Monterey Bay.

But at the urging of John Schultheis - couldn’t spell or even pronounce that last month either - we got up early on Sunday, June 8th, consulted an out of date road map and set out for non-descript warehouse near Cannery Row. Inside, we found an attractive store and a cadre of knowledgeable young men and women. It took a while to read and sign all the disclaimers and it took a lot of thought deciding which next of kin should be notified if we were lost at sea. Soon it was time to line up for our wetsuits and safety gear and figure out how to put them on. Thankfully, the wetsuits were dry and sand free. Then came the first of many physical tests.

First, we were directed to a bank of changing booths to change into our bathing suits. Each booth was about three feet wide but the curtains that were supposed to protect out modesty were only two and a half feet wide. We became instant quick-change artists and soon stepped out into the cool morning air wearing a swimsuit and a nervous smile. Then we started to pull on the wet suits.

In order to be effective, wetsuits must fit close to the skin. They are made from a rubber like material, but not very stretchy. Picture a slightly overweight person trying to get into an undersized pair of jeans. Now picture doing that while standing on a wet and sandy deck with 50 strangers watching. You got it!

Some needed help getting into the wetsuits - that part was really fun! Then we picked up a paddle and lined up for a quick class on how to launch, maneuver and scramble back onto the brightly colored kayaks if we fell in. We were warned to stay away from the sea life or risk jail and a stiff fine. We later found out that the otters and sea lions had not received that same warning.

After signing another form stating that we were adequately warned we struggled to schlep the craft into the water. The kayaks were heavy and it was about 75’ across soft sand to the launching point. Many of us were ready to give up and go home by then but no one was willing to the first to admit defeat. Happily, the water was calm and the craft were easy to launch. Once seated and away from the beach, we settled into a rhythm that was surprisingly easy and very effective. We paddled past a rusty trawler unloading fish, across the harbor channel and into the bay.

A large colony of noisy sea lions came into view. They had taken over a long breakwater and part of a launch ramp and no one had the guts to chase them away. The must have been there a long time because the stink was overpowering. In contrast, the air around the trawler we passed earlier was like perfume. We quickly paddled past the colony and entered the scenic part of the trip. It was typical Monterey Bay; calm water, kelp, basking sea otters and passing ships. Watching our every move from the shore were large groups of tourists. We imagined that they were admiring our courage and were filled with a strange feeling of camaraderie brought on by exhibiting bravery in the company of our new friends.

Actually, it was quite safe. The kayaks were virtually fool proof and no one fell in, except for one guy that stood up. But he managed to scramble back in. It became just one more story to laugh about later at dinner.

Monterey Bay Kayaks, the outfitter, allows their customers to stay out for up to four hours. But after paddling around for about two hours, most of us had seen all the kelp, sea lions, birds and otters we wanted and started back toward the starting point. We had hoped for a tailwind and got one but the changing currents and eddies forced us into a zigzag trip and it was tiring. We passed the stinking sea lion colony, the channel and the rusty trawler and soon were in familiar waters. At first, it was difficult to identify the exact location of the outfitter. One clue was a steady stream of fresh kayakers coming toward us from an obscure point on the beach. We headed for that spot and soon the outfitters sign was visible.

Landing was easy but carrying the craft across the beach and back to the warehouse was even more difficult because it was uphill and by now we were dog-tired. The last physical test was getting out of the wet suits and into street clothes. The suits turned inside out as we peeled them off. Someone almost peeled off his swimsuit at the same time. Then we dunked the wetsuits into barrels of water to rinse off the sand and hung them on racks to dry. A quick trip to the car to get our clothes and a towel and it was time for an outdoor shower. Then it was back to the “changing booths” - no modesty this time - to shed our swimsuits and to dress in street clothes. We started to feel normal again.

John had made reservations at the El Torito on Cannery Row. The lounge featured margaritas and Mexican coffee that were consumed with great demonstrations of bravado and élan. Famished by now, we were led into a private dining area where we laughed and ate lots of great Mexican food while telling exaggerated stories about the adventure.

Would we do it again next year? I can give you a definite maybe on that.