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of the paddler matches his propulsive power. I managed, with a great
expenditure of effort, to progress a quarter of a mile homeward, but
then the wind rose once more. Now it whipped the crests off the
waves, which came at me from all angles, barging me from one wall
of water to another. The white horses ramped and whinnied, bucked
when I vaulted onto their backs and lashed out with their hind legs as
they passed. I rode these mustangs for another half-hour, during
which time, to judge by the marks on the shore, I managed to cover
fifty yards. Then I stopped. It felt as if someone had attached a tow
rope to the back of the boat. However hard I paddled I could make
no headway: in fact I seemed slowly to be travelling backwards.
I reviewed my options. If I gave up and stopped paddling I would
be driven onto the cliffs. If I abandoned ship and swam I would, being
some three-quarters of a mile from the shore, certainly lose the boat,
possibly run out of energy and perhaps be dashed on the rocks when
I arrived, though at least I would then have a chance of slipping under
the breaking waves, rather than perching more perilously on top of
them if I sought to beach the kayak. But landing in any condition
among those rocks did not appeal to me.
Two hundred yards ahead of me I could see a small crescent of sand
not yet covered by the rising tide; otherwise the beach gleamed with
round boulders. The angle of attack was steep enough to negotiate, as
I would be able to cut across the wind, but shallow enough to be dan-
gerous when I reached the shore: I like to keep the waves directly
behind me when I land, as that gives me a chance of controlling the
boat. But I did not possess a surfeit of choice.
If I misjudged the angle or if I were blown back too far, I would
miss the sand and find myself on the rocks. But the judgement was
hard to make as the waves were so jumbled. I slid down their faces,
fishtailing, tumbling, lurching towards the shore at alarming speed.
Within a few minutes I found myself approaching the near horn of the
crescent of sand. I was coming in tight and was in danger of missing
it. I grunted with effort, trying to drive the boat further along the
shore, feeling every muscle cell strain and twang. Then I turned the
boat inland to try to ride onto the utmost corner of sand and heard,
as I did so, a shocking sound.
I turned. The biggest wave I had seen that day, that year, was bear-
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