08.02.07 kulturnatib

my apologies for the late posting of this column. this column was actually written and sent to the editor quite early in the week. but i didnt have time after the writing and the sending off of this column and before my partner and i had to go on another trip. this time to siquijor island where we had for months now been planning to bicycle around. were back now from this trip and i made it a point to post this as soon as i could. it is possible that my column for this week will be about the siquijor trip. if so, or even if not, you should get first glance at it sooner than most, as has happened before.

I will never kayak again

I will never kayak again, in a kayak that keels this way and that, seemingly with a mind of its own and taking as much time and much more energy to keep its bow on target towards its destination.

Last weekend, a motley international crew of Filipinos, three Brits, an American, a Canadian, a Korean and a German embarked on one of the Moonlight Paddles that used to be regularly organized by JumpOff Point, and before that the Baruto Paddlers, if I got that right.

Recently though, this night paddling trek that heads for designated islets – in a hop to one or one to another and, sometimes, yet another -- that dot that passage way from Olango Island to Bohol, one of the world's most biodiverse marine stretches in the world, had not been quite that regular.

But last weekend, with the full moon approaching its most ovoid state, JumpOff Point organized this trip. It proved to be the most well participated in, so far, in this activity's uneven but always eventful history.

Based on those who attended the mid-week preparatory meeting prior to the trip, one would not think that such a group would grow from the handful there.

But, the group it was, the final composition continuing to be fluid until almost the last minute.

As we set off at a little past 10pm from the Karancho Resort, two hours after our STD or set time of departure, we were composed of 13 kayaks; 3 singles and 10 tandems or two-seaters of paddlers with varying kayaking experience. One or two had no prior experience at all and an equal number were experienced enough to be certified by the Singapore Canoe Federation.

Stay as close together as possible. Don't stray away. Keep to the blinker in front of you. Use your whistles if there is anything wrong. Eli will be the sweeper and will sweep for those who will lag behind or will stray. There is a possibility of light showers. We will regroup every so often. Count off.

And, off we were. Almost immediately, we sensed there was something not quite right with our kayak. Of course, we thought of it as there is something wrong with how we are paddling. We could not hold a straight line. The kayak went through extreme leftward, rightward swings. Not just once did we find ourselves almost going around in a circle.

Frustrating to the extreme. But the gibbous moon peeking out from black cottony clouds, at times casting its spotlight presence on the entire sky when the clouds deferred to it, the mirror flat waters and then the small islet of Sulpa, when we arrived there a little over an hour from our start, more than made up for it.

Over drinks and food – including, quite incredibly, gourmet salad and Hungarian sausages – the group enjoyed an evening of cross-cultural exchange that centered around the mock rivalry between otherwise good friends and budding business partners, a Brit and a German, with an American keeping a running score of points scored for number of jokes told, witty comments or ripostes made, etc.

The sun bore down on everybody not long after we retired chasing us out of tents, hammocks, sleeping bags and mats towards a reluctant but, mostly, full breakfast. By 10am the reloading of the kayaks commenced.

By half past the hour, we were on our way back via the mangroves of the southern tip of Olango island. We thought that our kayak, lighter now with a lesser load, would behave better now. Going over the previous evenings zig-zag we thought the cause might be the unequal loading of cargo, favoring the fore cargo hatch.

But, no, this didn't seem to be the case. Somebody, during a regroup as we reached Olango, suggested that we might consider switching places. Up to that point, I was on the steerer's seat. I thought there might be a point to that. So switch we did, but, in the process, overturning our kayak, throwing my partner overboard. Still, this gave us ample opportunity to test whether we knew how to right an overturned kayak and reenter it. We passed the test.

The kayak still couldn't hold a straight line. So bad, at one point that we found ourselves in the thick of the mangrove patch with its leaves and branches right up to my face.

It was a struggle to get back, helped none by a blazing noonday sun. But, we made it back. Extremely tired, burned despite sunblock, and euphoric. We made it.

But, I will never ride that kayak again.