Stronger than the storm that tried to break me
Our whole obsession of being on water started when we got seriously into paddle boarding. My husband Alex, CEO of Shyft Moving would SUP in Sausalito Harbor at 6am after he dropped our oldest off at football. This was in the early days of COVID, and we were getting bored at home. Our new hobby helped to switch up the environment, distraction free. Whenever we went paddle boarding, we’d see all these boats moored or docked at the harbor, just waiting to be sailed.
I don’t know if you’ve ever been past a harbor more than once. If you have, you’ll notice the boats more and more — they start speaking to you. Pretty soon, you have your favorite and you’re imagining all sorts of shenanigans you’d be getting up to on the water. But these boats, they’re just parked there.
Well, one day, they won’t be.
One day, we might see more of them on the water than ever before, and in person.
We were daydreaming.
Then, we almost died.
Both of us, together, on the water, almost died.
That’ll get you thinking on how you want to live.
Before I elaborate, let me ask:
Would you say a near-death experience is an end or a beginning?
Well, for us it was mostly an end. That surprised us most of all. That, and almost getting blown into the ocean.
The evening of August 3, 2020 started like any other summer night. We were always looking for opportunities to get onto our boards. Monday was date night so we had dinner reservations for 7:45pm — near Doran beach.
We figured, what the hell, a short excursion on the water before we eat — let’s work up an appetite.
And everything was peachy. The water was calm, we’d checked the weather before we left.
Thing is, micro climates in the bay area can creep up on you out of nowhere. The alert broke while we were on the water.
You’ll need a visual to understand just the sort of trouble we were in.
(Disclaimer: Alex now carries a marine radio with him even on short excursions because of this event).
So, we started at point 1 — nothing unusual. Our plan was to paddle along the shoreline for 30 minutes or so — this was supposed to be just a quick paddle before our dinner reservations.
Things did not go according to plan — all of a sudden we were swept up and carried away from shore, fast. 35-knot winds and an accordingly strong current came out of nowhere and took us out to the deep, despite our best efforts. Man, does fight or flight kick in when that happens.
It wasn’t looking good for us.
Once we both saw where this was headed, we made a plan to paddle as hard as we could to shore, across the current, not against it. 20 minutes of pure adrenaline couldn’t even get us to the rocks at point 2. This is where it became pure life or death: if we didn’t make it to point 3, we’d be carried out into open water and it would be over.
So when they say that your whole life flashes before you — it did. I remember thinking how angry my family would be if I died right now and I didn’t want to disappoint them — I couldn’t die right now.
I was a fairly new paddle boarder, on my knees balancing my inflatable board against the waves and wind. I was so focused, and worked so hard to dig deep with my paddle trying so hard to steer into the shore. Turning into the wind felt impossible. It was impossible, there was no way I could get to shore.
We both knew that the first set of rocks was our target to get to. Alex was to the left of me and to the left of him was the open sea. He paddled by my side and fell off at one point but got back on pretty quickly. I had to stay positive since the wrong move here could’ve been devastating.
We missed point 2 and our next target was point 3. I continued to dig deep to try to point the board towards shore and the closest I got to turning it was about 35 degrees. Not enough. I had to make this next set of rocks. I didn’t have a choice it was the only path for me.
Point 3 was coming up quickly, the wind kept pushing me a way while I had to fight to turn it into the wind. The work was so intense that it brought me back to my childbirth experience — except I didn’t have a break between contractions. I had to keep paddling or else I’d miss Point 3 and never be able to see my children again.
We made the rock together, the last rock before the open ocean. Literally made it by a hair. The last rock at the end of the jetty’s. It almost felt like a magnet when the tip of my board hit the rock. Little did I know, with Alex still to the left of me he managed to get behind the board and push me to the very last rock.
A huge sense of relief came over me while I climbed off of the board onto the rocks. We’re alive!! (I definitely screamed some obscenities into the universe once I got off of the board to claim my purpose of still being alive)
We weren’t in the clear just yet. The next obstacle was jagged boulders stretching out for at least a mile ahead, with these massive waves crashing in on both sides. It was not even close to being over — the wind had only gotten worse. But I didn’t care because we were alive.
We knew we weren’t making that distance with our boards and paddles, so we decided to pin them under a rock and make moves. After 45 minutes of traversing those rocks, the universe had apparently had its fun, because that’s when the Coast Guard signaled us to go back to our boards and the entry point — so they can take us back to land.
At this point, I was numb to the experience. If I had to climb back another 45 minutes then so be it. Just had to keep on moving to get there. Wind blowing, bell chiming, seagull poop on the rocks and on our hands and feet — didn’t matter just we had to keep on moving. The coast guard was hovering just waiting for us to make it back.
Once we were on the Coast Guard vessel, we had a moment to decompress. They told us that a camper saw us struggling and called them for a rescue. Dusk and fog were approaching so the timing of the call was literally a life saver. Whoever that was, I owe my life to you — thank you!!
Once we got to our car we were in a state of shock of what had occurred. We realized that the “what if’s” didn’t cloud our mind as we fought to make it to the rocks. I don’t know if I’ve ever had an experience like that before where I actually had no doubt and knew that survival was the only path forward.
But the what if’s came flooding in once we had time to reflect.
If I lost my paddle, I would lose my partner in life.
If I lost my balance kneeling on my board, I would never see my kids again.
If I closed my eyes, I would never enjoy another meal with friends and family.
If I fell off the board and couldn’t get back on, I would never see the sun rise again.
If we didn’t make the last rock together, I would never feel the rush of accomplishment and breakthrough.
But the what if’s didn’t happen — and therefore don’t deserve my energy to harp on. I was more fascinated with what happens when you operate with no doubt.
I still find myself thinking the wind did more than send shards of sea water into my face, it cut me. It shaved away all the things that didn’t matter — the doubt, the uncertainty, the small stuff.
All the stuff that sticks to you through day-to-day stress build-up got peeled off like a skin I was never meant to wear. All that was left was what made me who I am.
Life on land — cramped, outdated, sometimes self-destructive — is now being tested, by us, against a new option. Life off the grid. Not the information grid, that is still one of mankind’s greatest achievements. Instead, life away from predefined paths — roads, houses, school systems, traffic …
After that experience, it was just a matter of following our instincts as sailors, movers and entrepreneurs to map out our vision.Yes the water almost claimed us, but more than that it taught us. It is a new challenge, it’s open and it’s ours for the taking.
